THE  IKON 
BKIGADE 


UC-NRLF 


GENERAL 
CHARLES 
KENG'X'V 


I 


NORMAN   HOLT 

BY  GENERAL  CHARLES   KING 


WHAT  THE   CRITICS  SAY 

"  A  pretty  love  story,  like  a  silver  thread,  winds  through  the 
story  and  brightens  and  lightens  the  dark  scenes  of  battle. 
'  Norman  Holt'  is  like  a  sea  breeze — it  has  the  sweep  and  dash, 
and  is  clean  and  wholesome." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  Written  in  the  author's  most  spirited  manner,  and  his  descrip 
tion  of  the  battle  of  Mission  Ridge  is  singularly  vivid  and 
forceful." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"It  is  a  strong  story,  worthy  of  dramatization;  but  one  fears 
lest  it  fall  into  incompetent  hands,  and  so  loose  the  strong  high 
lights,  the  deep  background,  the  soft  mezzotints  which  the  author 
has  so  deftly  interwoven." — Indianapolis  Journal. 

"  It  is  a  swift  and  thrilling  story  of  action." — San  Francisco 
Call. 

"  One  meets  in  these  pages  real  human  beings.  There  is  not 
in  the  whole  book  a  dull  chapter." — Omaha  Bee. 

"The  story  is  among  the  best  General  King  has  produced." — 
New  York  Times. 

"The  book  is  rich  in  romance,  thrilling  in  situation,  and  so 
intense  in  its  recital  that  the  reader  is  literally  hypnotized  with 
interest  from  the  very  first  lines.  It  is  General  King's  strongest 
work." — New  York  Press. 

"None  of  his  past  novels,  which  won  him  his  reputation  as 
one  of  the  notably  vivid  fiction  writers  of  the  country,  is  more 
dramatic  in  plot  and  stirring  in  action  than  '  Norman  Holt.' " — 
San  Francisco  Bulletin. 


Beautifully  Bound  in  Cloth,  Illustrated,  $1.25 


G.   W.    DILLINGHAM    CO.,    PUBLISHERS 


THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

A  Story  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac 


BY 

General  CHARLES  KING 

AUTHOR  OF 

NORMAN  HOLT,"  "  THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER," 
"FORT  FRAYNE,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  R.  F. 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


The  Iron  Brigade.  Issued  September,  1902. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. — DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS 


II.— A  SNAKE  IN  THE  GRASS 23 

III.— THE  FIRST  UNIFORM      .      ,•...•       •       •       •        •      38 
IV. — WHAT  WAS  FOUND  AT  MANASSAS  ....        .50 

V. — A  STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE 60 

VI.— A  STRANGER  WITHIN  OUR  GATES 72 

VII.— A  WOMAN'S  DARING 83 

VIII.— A  BADGER  IN  THE  TOILS       .       .       .       .        .        .96 

IX.— ESCAPE  POSSIBLE .        .108 

X. — LIBBY  OR  LIBERTY 122 

XI.— QUEEN  ROSALIE 136 

XII.— IN  THE  TEETH  OF  THE  BRIGADE 150 


912901 


8  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIII.— RIVANNA  TO  RAPIDAN      ...       .       .       .        .164 

XIV. — THROUGH  THE  MESH  OF  THE  FOE  .        •       .        .174 
XV. — LINCOLN'S  DILEMMA  .  ....        .    187 

XVI.— "  STONEWALL  "  IN  AMBUSH       .        .        .        .        .202 

XVII. — How  THE  BRIGADE  WINS  ITS  NAME       .        .:      .    220 
XVIII. — THE  HEART  OF  LINCOLN.        .        .        .        .        .     232 

XIX. — KILLED  IN  FRONT  OF  THE  GUNS      ....    242 

XX. — A  CRY  FROM  THE  AMBULANCE  .....    256 

XXI. — BEARDING  THE  LION  IN  HIS  DEN     .  "     .        .        .    269 

XXII. — "CAPTAIN  BENTON,  YOU'RE  A  COWARD"        .        .     282 

XXIII. — GETTYSBURG       .        .  .        .        .        .        .     295 

XXIV.— THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  GUNS 306 

XXV. — LADUE'S  LAST  RETREAT 320 

XXVI. — WHAT  A  LETTER  REVEALED 335 

XXVII. — LOUNSBERRY'S  LAST  STING 344 

XXVIII. —SURRENDER 355 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"IT  is  I — ABRAHAM  LINCOLN"       .        .        .        (Frontispiece)  240 

IN  FRONT  OF  HIM  STOOD  THE  OLD  VIRGINIA  HOMESTEAD     .  67 

THE  RIFLE-BUTTS  LEAP  TO  THE  SHOULDERS    .        .        .        .  222 

BENTON  THRUST  His  LEFT  ARM  UNDER  THE  FALLEN  HEAD  333 


THE     IRON     BRIGADE 

CHAPTER  I 

DAMON   AND   PYTHIAS 

They  were  paddling  idly  down  the  stream — two 
young  men  and  a  girl.  She  lay  luxuriously  back  upon 
the  cushions  in  the  stern  sheets,  the  tiller  ropes  hang 
ing  loosely  from  her  slender  white  hands,  her  soft  blue 
eyes  fixed  tenderly  upon  the  fine  face  of  the  oarsman 
nearest  her — a  youth  whose  lithe,  agile  form  swayed 
slowly  to  and  fro  in  harmony  with  the  swing  of  the  long, 
light  sculls.  The  wooded  shores,  the  rural  beauty  of 
the  scene,  passed  unnoticed.  Something  of  absorbing 
interest  kept  "  all  eyes  in  the  boat."  Stroke  and  bow 
were  in  animated  if  not  actually  heated  discussion, 
and  the  dark  brown  eyes  that  earlier  in  the  afternoon 
seemed  ever  seeking  those  of  liquid  blue  before  him, 
were  now  turned,  sometimes  to  port,  sometimes  to 
starboard,  sometimes  over  the  squared  shoulders, 
flashing  on  the  man  in  front — a  young  athlete  with 
eyes  as  blue  and  hair  and  skin  well-nigh  as  fair  as  those 
of  the  girl  at  the  helm.  He  of  the  stroke  sculls,  on  the 
contrary,  was  tawny,  almost,  as  a  son  of  the  tropics. 


10  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

His  head  was  crowned  by  a  wealth  of  dark  brown  curls, 
tumbling  low /and  'iu-xiiti£nt  about  his  neck  and  brow 
and  temples, .  The  .l&sjies  of  his  deep,  dark  eyes  were 
long,  tftfck  and:  be'auUfufly  V^ir-ved.  The  shape  of  his 
face,  in  its  perfect  oval,  had  all  the  delicate  beauty  of 
a  woman's.  The  mouth,  lips,  teeth  and  chin  were  al 
most  perfect,  and  among  the  four  score  young  fellows 
prominent  in  society  of  the  Western  metropolis,  there 
was  not  one  to  deny  to  Paul  Ladue  the  palm  for  physi 
cal,  or  at  least  facial,  charm.  Ever  since  his  coming 
among  them  four  years  before  there  was  hardly  a  girl 
in  all  their  circle  in  the  bustling  city  that  had  not  de 
clared  him  "  simply  lovely." 

Refined,  delicate,  even  effeminate  was  his  face — one 
to  delight  a  painter.  What  it  lacked  was  strength  and 
will.  A  physiognomist  would  have  turned  from  it  speed 
ily  to  study  the  strong,  virile  features,  the  square  jaw, 
the  firm  set  lips  of  the  stalwart  fellow  at  his  back.  It 
required  no  unusual  power  of  divination  to  tell  that  he 
and  the  silent  girl  were  brother  and  sister,  and  that 
between  them  sat,  despite  the  heat  of  argument,  a  be 
loved  and  cherished  friend. 

"  You'll  never  do  it,  even  if  you  muster  in  every  man 
north  of  the  Ohio,  Fred,"  said  he  of  the  dark,  flashing 
eyes.  "  Our  people  will  fight  to  the  last  man — and  then 
the  women  and  children  will  take  it  up." 

Fred  Benton  shook  his  head  in  dissent — a  sad  smile 
on  his  face.  For  a  moment  he  ceased  rowing  and  bent 
earnestly  forward: — 


DAMON  AND   PYTHIAS  11 

"  You  at  least  can  have  no  sympathy  with  the  South, 
after  the  wrong  done  your  father,  Paul,  and  I'm  blessed 
if  I  can  understand  your  taking  up  the  cudgels  for  Ala 
bama  as  you  do." 

The  color  deepened  in  Ladue's  face.  For  a  moment 
he  made  no  reply,  but  the  light  shallop  seemed  to  bound 
forward,  spurning  the  foam  from  her  sharp,  white  bow, 
under  the  impetus  of  the  supple  strength  he  suddenly 
threw  into  the  sculls.  Benton  had  scored  a  hit — "  a 
palpable  hit."  The  eyes  of  the  fair,  slender  girl  suddenly 
brimmed  with  tears.  There  was  something  of  reproach 
in  the  glance  she  threw  at  her  stalwart  brother.  Well 
as  the  story  was  known,  people  rarely  spoke  of  it  to  the 
Ladues.  Four  years  old  though  it  was,  it  still  cut  deep, 
and  no  one  of  their  little  household  could  refer  to  it 
without  manifest  emotion. 

It  was  some  time  in  '57  that  the  editor  of  a  leading 
journal  received  a  letter  commending  to  him  one  Fran 
cis  Ladue,  who  purposed  settling  in  the  city  and  going 
into  business  there.  Presently  Ladue  came  and  with  him 
his  little  family — a  fragile,  sad-faced  wife,  a  slender,  big- 
eyed  boy  of  sixteen,  and  two  young  children.  Presently, 
too,  marked  copies  of  Southern  papers  were  received, 
and  little  by  little  their  story  was  told  to  an  indignant 
and  sympathetic  community.  Natives  of  the  South  and 
residents  for  years  of  a  beautiful  old  Southern  metropo 
lis,  they  had  been  banished  from  the  home  of  their  love, 
driven  from  State  to  State,  forbidden  ever  to  return, 
and  compelled  finally  to  seek  refuge  among  strangers  in 


12  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

the  cold  and  distant  North,  and  the  head  and  front  of 
their  offending  had  been  that  Ladue,  senior,  owner  of 
the  finest  bookstore  on  the  Gulf  coast,  stood  charged 
with  having  sold  to  an  old  customer  one  copy  of  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  and  when  the  store  was  searched  by 
wrathful,  slave-holding  fellow  citizens,  three  more  copies 
were  found  on  a  far  back  shelf,  "  secreted,"  said  the 
committee,  "  under  a  stack  of  bound  volumes."  No 
law  had  been  violated.  The  book  was  poison — a  blow 
at  their  "  peculiar  institution,"  and  that  was  enough. 
The  business  it  had  taken  Ladue  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century  to  build  up  was  ruined  in  a  day. 

Nor  could  the  sympathy  and  cordial  welcome  of  his 
new  fellow  citizens  begin  to  compensate  for  the  loss. 
Ladue  was  shy  and  reserved,  his  wife  a  semi-invalid  and 
Paul  a  sensitive  plant.  The  lad  was  sent  to  the  best 
school  where,  so  soon  as  his  story  was  known,  the  other 
youngsters  gradually  ceased  from  troubling,  and  sought 
in  crude,  clumsy,  boyish  fashion  to  give  him  comfort.  It 
was  long  before  he  seemed  to  thaw  out  at  all,  but  Fred 
Benton,  a  near  neighbor  when  they  passed  into  the  high 
school,  was  the  youth  he  finally  tied  to,  and  then  this 
strangely  assorted  pair  joined  forces,  apparently,  for 
good  and  all.  Damon  and  Pythias  they  called  them; 
for,  after  the  first  six  months  of  shyness  on  Ladue's 
part,  they  became  inseparable.  One  was  rarely  seen 
without  the  other,  yet  were  they  utterly  unlike.  High 
school  finished,  Ladue  was  needed  as  assistant  in  his 
father's  growing  business.  Benton  had  begun  th*  ^tudy 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS  13 

of  law  in  the  office  of  the  famous  old  firm  of  which  his 
father  was  the  head.  But  before  either  had  cast  his 
first  vote  the  long-heralded  conflict  between  the  North 
and  South — the  slaveholders'  rebellion,  so-called — had 
burst  upon  the  startled  land.  Sumter  had  fallen.  The 
President  had  called,  first  for  seventy-five  thousand  men 
to  defend  the  Capital,  then  for  five  hundred  thousand 
volunteers  to  prosecute  the  war. 

For  a  moment  there  came  no  answer  to  Benton's 
tentative.  Heightened  color,  compressed  lips  and  a 
quick  glance  at  the  flushing  face  of  the  girl  before  him 
told,  however,  that  Ladue  was  deeply  moved.  They 
were  nearing  the  little  boathouse  now,  and  Benton  in 
turn,  bending  to  his  sculls,  sent  their  light  craft  shooting 
through  the  mirrorlike  waters.  Already  he  repented 
him  of  his  words,  yet  there  was  something  he  longed  to 
know.  For  upwards  of  three  years  there  had  been  no 
secret  between  him  and  his  chosen  friend.  Then  came 
the  election  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  then  the  secession  of 
State  after  State,  then  the  inauguration  of  our  great 
Westerner  as  President,  then  Sumter  and  the  call  to 
arms.  And  now  Paul  Ladue,  who  had  hitherto  held  no 
communication  with  his  native  State,  was  writing  fre 
quent  letters  thither  and  feverishly,  furtively,  perhaps, 
awaiting  reply.  What  did  it  portend? 

A  wave  of  patriotic  fervor  had  swept  over  the  West. 
On  every  hand  men  were  quitting  the  desk,  the  plough 
or  the  tools  of  their  trade,  and  flocking  to  the  recruiting 
offices.  Benton's  name  had  been  sent  to  the  Governor 


14  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

for  a  commission  in  one  of  the  new  regiments.  Mass 
meetings  were  being  held  almost  every  night,  and  ener 
getic  citizens  were  passing  subscription  papers  from 
desk  to  desk  that  a  fund  might  be  raised  for  the  benefit 
of  the  families  of  the  rapidly  enlisting  husbands  and 
fathers.  One  of  these  papers  was  brought  to  Ladue, 
senior.  He  colored,  coughed,  looked  embarrassed,  took 
out  his  check-book,  thought  a  moment,  returned  it,  and 
then  going  to  his  cash  drawer  found  some  twenty  dol 
lars  in  currency  and  gave  it  to  the  collector.  "  No," 
said  he,  when  asked  to  write  his  name,  "  I  prefer  follow 
ing  the  precepts  of  the  Scriptures — let  not  my  left  hand 
know  what  my  right  hand  is  doing/  The  committee 
looked  queer  when  they  heard  the  story.  "  He  is  will 
ing  to  give,  but — dreads  its  being  known,"  said  the 
mayor.  "  His  heart  is  still  with  the  South." 

Yet  Ladue  gave  again  and  gave  gladly.  "  How  could 
I  do  otherwise?  "  said  he.  "  You  and  these  kind  people 
bade  me  welcome  when  life  was  at  its  blackest.  I  am 
a  Southerner.  I  cannot  fight  against  mine  own  people 
no  matter  what  they  did  to  me.  I  cannot  support  them, 
however,  in  their  revolt  against  the  Government  which 
shields  and  protects  me.  I  will  not  refuse  to  contribute 
toward  the  support  of  the  wives  and  children  of  those 
who  so  kindly  welcomed  my  wife  and  children.  I  and 
mine  are  grateful." 

"But  what  is  Paul  going  to  do?"  was  the  question 
that  startled  him,  one  fair  May  morning.  "  He  would 
not  enlist  with  the  boys  here  and  he's  writing  letter 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS  15 

after  letter  to  somebody  there.  It  isn't  possible  he 
would  fight  for  the  people  who  broke  his  father's  heart." 

It  had  never  occurred  to  Ladue.  It  was  high  time  he 
interposed.  Paul  was  barely  twenty,  and,  therefore,  still 
subject  to  his  father's  will.  It  was  a  soft,  warm  even 
ing  at  the  very  verge  of  June  as  the  trio  came  silently 
back  from  their  up-river  row — Paul  and  Elinor  side  by 
side,  Fred,  scull-laden,  some  distance  in  rear.  They 
looked  up  at  the  aging  Southerner,  seated  on  his  narrow 
porch,  and  smiled  and  nodded  as  they  passed,  but  Fred 
propped  his  sculls  against  the  tree  box,  and  after  a  lin 
gering  gaze  at  the  two  wandering  slowly  and  sorrow 
fully  along  the  almost  deserted  street,  let  himself  in  at 
the  gate  for  a  few  minutes  of  earnest  talk.  It  was  in 
deed  time  somebody  in  authority  sought  to  dissuade 
the  young  man  if  it  should  prove  that  he  were  seek 
ing  service  with  the  Alabama  troops  and,  since  Paul 
could  not  be  induced  to  talk,  Fred  determined  to  appeal 
to  the  father. 

Meantime  the  two  young  people  had  gone  on  toward 
the  Benton  homestead.  The  soft  twilight  still  lingered 
over  roof  and  spire.  The  bells  in  the  cathedral  tower 
had  just  rung  out  the  stroke  of  eight.  Away  down  town, 
somewhere,  a  military  band  was  playing  stirring  march 
music,  and  there  came  the  sound  of  distant  cheering, 
for  another  mass  meeting  was  being  held  in  Market 
Square  and  a  gifted  orator  from  Chicago  was  being  pre 
sented  to  the  throng.  Up  here  near  the  bluffs  overlook 
ing  the  great  inland  sea,  all  was  still.  The  street  lamps 


16  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

were  only  just  being  lighted.  Some  houses  seemed  to 
show  no  lights  at  all,  as  though  all  the  inmates  had  gone 
to  listen  to  the  speaker  of  the  evening.  Elinor  Benton 
looked  warily  within  as  they  reached  the  gate  in  front  of 
the  quaint  colonial  house  that  had  been  her  honje  since 
babyhood.  Voices,  in  low-toned  chat,  floated  out  to  her 
from  the  broad  veranda,  and  with  hardly  a  shadow  of 
hesitation  the  girl  turned  and  followed  when  her  partner 
said,  "  Let  us  go  back  to  the  bluff  a  little  while."  Be 
fore  she  fully  realized  it  she  found  herself  leaning  on 
his  arm  and  yet,  no  further  word  had  been  spoken.  He 
had  simply  possessed  himself  of  her  pretty,  slender  white 
hand,  passed  it  within  his  elbow  and  then  clasped,  or 
rather  clamped,  it  there.  For  a  few  minutes  neither 
seemed  to  care  to  speak.  When  they  reached  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  Ladue  flung  open  the  shawl  he  was  carry 
ing,  spread  a  double  thickness  on  the  sod  and  begged 
her  to  sit.  Silently  she  obeyed.  Then  he  turned  to 
her  and  his  voice  trembled  as  he  asked, 

"You  heard  Fred's  question?" 

An  almost  inaudible  "  Yes,"  was  the  sole  response. 

"  What— do  you  think  I— ought  to  do?"  he  wistfully, 
slowly  asked.  For  a  moment  she  could  not  reply. 
When  the  words  came — for  she  was  only  seventeen,  and 
the  position  most  trying — her  clear  young  voice  had  a 
pathetic,  tremulous  undertone. 

"  How  can  /  judge?  Almost  any  one  would  say  your 
duty  was  here — yet — I  know — your  heart — is  there." 
And  as  she  spoke  the  heart  in  her  own  pure  youngbosom 


DAMON   AND   PYTHIAS  17 

was  throbbing  hard.  For  another  little  while  there  was 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  distant  cheering 
from  the  center  of  the  town — by  the  rhythmical,  sooth 
ing  plash  of  the  wavelets  on  the  pebbly  beach  beneath 
them.  Far  in  the  eastern  firmament  the  spangled  sky 
was  bathed  in  silvery  light,  growing  every  moment  more 
brilliant,  and  now,  at  the  edge  of  the  placid  waters  a 
glistening  point  appeared,  spreading  swiftly  into  a  tiny 
segment  of  liquid  fire  that  rose  with  slow,  majestic  grace 
at  the  dim  horizon,  gaining  in  bulk  and  brilliancy  with 
every  second  and  sending  toward  them  along  the  flaw 
less  sheen  of  the  waters  a  long,  radiant,  tapering  stream 
of  dazzling  light,  as,  only  just  beyond  her  full,  the  sweet 
May  moon  began  her  star  circled  flight  to  the  zenith. 
Then  Elinor,  uplifting  her  face,  looked  upon  the  clear- 
cut  features  of  the  slender  youth  at  her  side  and  saw 
that  the  dark  eyes  were  filled  with  sadness  and  trouble 
unspeakable,  saw  that  the  soft  lips,  just  shaded  by  the 
silken  fringe  of  the  boy  mustache,  were  twitching  and 
trembling  with  uncontrollable  emotion,  and  her  young 
heart  brimmed  over,  as  in  sympathy  and  tenderness  that 
for  the  moment  overmastered  her,  she  impulsively  bent 
forward,  and  with  slender,  tapering  fingers  touched  his 
shoulder  as  though  to  turn  him  toward  her,  while  with 
almost  a  sob  in  her  voice  she  murmured — 

"  What  is  it,  Paul?    Tell  me!  " 

And  then  the  lad,  throwing  himself  on  his  face,  seized 
in  both  his  the  trembling  little  hand  that  had  braved  the 
shyness  of  maidenhood,  the  conventions  of  society,  and 
2 


18  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

bathed  it  in  burning  kisses  and  in  scalding  tears.  "  My 
heart  is  not  there !  "  he  sobbed.  "  You  know  well  where 
it  is,  but — my  duty — ."  Affrighted  now,  she  sought  to 
draw  away  her  hand,  but  he  clung  to  it.  "  No,  Nell, 
no!  "  he  cried.  "  It's  the  first  time  I  ever  dared!  It's 
the  last  time  I  ever  may!  I'm  going,  Nell;  I've  got  to 
go,  but  remember,  my  heart  isn't  there.  It's  here — it's 
here  with  you! " 

And  then  on  a  sudden  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  dashed 
away  the  tears  and  stood  with  head  uplifted,  like  that  of 
a  challenging  stag,  a  picture  of  youthful  grace  and 
beauty  in  the  silvery  light  of  the  gleaming  disk  now 
spurning  the  limpid  waters,  for  voices,  close  at  hand, 
broke  the  silence  of  the  summerlike  evening.  Some 
one  was  climbing  the  pathway  up  the  height.  An  in 
stant  of  listening  and  Elinor,  too,  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  the  sweet  face  that  but  a  moment  before  was  all 
mantled  with  the  blush  of  girlish  joy  and  love,  went 
suddenly  white  as  the  dainty  gown  she  wore,  and  her 
eyes,  as  they  turned  on  the  youth  by  her  side,  filled 
with  alarm. 

"  If  you  know  he's  going  to  join  the  rebel  army  and 
can  prove  it,  why,  that's  enough,"  panted  the  first 
speaker.  "The  trouble  is  to  prove  it.  Otherwise 
there's  no  law  to  hold  him." 

"  Prove  it!  By  heaven,  Curtis,  you  make  me  swear!  " 
was  the  vehement  answer.  "  If  our  postmaster  would 
only  do  his  duty  we  could  prove  far  more — that  he's  in 
the  rebel  service  at  this  minute — that  he's  here  a  spy 


DAMON  AND   PYTHIAS  19 

in  our  midst — sending  notes  of  all  our  preparations  and 
forces  and  numbers,  and,  just  as  Andre  was  hung  on 
the  Hudson  eighty  years  ago,  so  should  that  young 
scoundrel  hang  here  now.  The  laws  of  war  the  world 
over  will  tell  you  so." 

And  then  scrambling  to  the  crest,  full  in  the  light  of 
the  unclouded  moon,  the  two  climbers  straightened  up 
and  stood  face  to  face  with  the  man  of  whom  they  were 
speaking,  Elinor  Benson  clinging,  trembling,  yet  in 
speechless  indignation  at  his  side. 

For  a  moment  there  was  awkward  silence.  Paul 
Ladue,  with  gleaming  eyes  stood  squarely  confronting 
the  foremost,  a  portly  man  of  perhaps  thirty  years,  who 
was  still  breathing  hard  as  the  result  of  his  climb.  His 
companion,  tall  and  spare  and  a  few  years  older,  slowly 
ranged  himself  alongside  his  friend  and  looked  to  him 
to  speak.  The  stout  man  stared  for  a  few  seconds  at 
the  silent  twain,  partly  to  recover  breath,  partly  to 
recover  wits.  Finally  he  lamely  said,  "  Oho!  " 

Then  finding  the  steadfast  gaze  of  Ladue's  burning 
brown  eyes  rather  hard  to  bear,  he  turned  to  his  com 
panion.  "  Rather  a — coincidence,  isn't  it? "  said  he. 
This  remark,  too,  fell  flat,  for  no  response  followed.  It 
became  necessary  to  say  something  more  to  relieve  the 
situation,  and  obviously  the  gentleman  knew  not  what 
to  say.  If  there  lived  in  this  Western  community  a 
man  Paul  Ladue  held  in  especial  disfavor,  it  was  George 
McKinnon,  junior  partner  in  the  firm  of  Benton,  Gray 
&  McKinnon,  attorneys  and  counselors  at  law,  and  it 


20  THE  IRON   BRIGADE 

was  George  McKinnon  who  stood  there  in  the  flesh  and 
who,  but  a  moment  before,  had  denounced  him  as  de 
serving  the  fate  of  the  spy.  Ample  reason  had  he  to 
hate  McKinnon  for,  ever  since  Elinor's  return  the  pre 
vious  autumn  from  a  visit  to  relatives  in  the  East,  that 
energetic  practitioner  had  been  a  constant  caller  at  the 
Benton  homestead,  and  despite  the  fact  that  Elinor  had 
not  yet  finished  her  school  days,  was  persistent  in  atten 
tions  that  showed  to  all  society  he  had  become  infatu 
ated  with  her  radiant  beauty — that  the  man  of  thirty 
eagerly  sought  the  girl  of  seventeen  as  his  wife.  On 
/he  other  hand,  McKinnon  had  noted  with  jealousy  un 
speakable,  that  the  frank,  joyous,  boy  and  girl  friend 
ship  that  had  existed  throughout  the  lad's  school  days 
had  given  place  to  the  half  shy,  half  hesitant,  yet 
strangely  sweet  relationship  of  early  love,  pure  yet  pas 
sionate.  McKinnon  was  a  keen  student,  a  rising  man 
at  the  bar,  a  brilliant  "  jury  "  lawyer  and  just  the  one 
needed  to  strengthen  the  somewhat  slow  and  ponderous 
combination  of  the  old  firm.  Benton,  a  lawyer  of  the  old 
school,  held  his  young  partner  in  high  esteem  if  not,  in 
deed,  in  a  certain  awe,  due  to  the  daring  and  successful 
methods  that  had  distinguished  him  ever  since  his  call 
to  the  bar.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  not  too  well 
pleased  with  his  son's  choice  of  an  intimate.  Paul 
Ladue  was  a  dreamer,  an  idler,  a  poet  perhaps — a  youth 
to  write  sonnets  and  sing  sentimental  ballads  (he  did 
play  the  guitar  delightfully  and  was  no  mean  performer 
on  the  banjo)  he  was  what  the  stern,  hard-headed  old 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS  21 

delver  in  facts  and  figures  called  "  a  lapdog  sort  of  fel 
low  " — just  the  last  kind  of  intimate  for  a  young  man 
starting  in  the  law.  It  was  his  gentle,  tender-hearted 
wife  who  yearned  over  the  sad-faced  young  exile  and 
made  him  welcome  to  their  fireside.  It  was  the  squire's 
love  for  her,  the  wife  of  his  youth,  that  prompted  him 
to  follow  her  lead  and  be  kind  and  hospitable  to  Paul 
Ladue,  but  he  could  hardly  brook  it  either  in  Paul  or 
his  aging,  breaking  father  that  they  who  had  suffered 
so  much  and  so  unjustly  at  the  hands  of  the  South, 
should  now  seem  to  cling  so  tenaciously  to  all  the  ideals 
and  traditions  of  their  earlier  days  and  persist  in  calling 
Alabama  "  home."  Time  and  again  he  forcefully  re 
buked  them  both.  Ladue,  senior,  would  listen  in  sub 
missive  silence  until  challenged  to  reply,  and  then  would 
merely  say,  "  I  dare  say  you're  right,  sir,  but — they  were 
my  people  nearly  three  score  years.  My  eldest  son  lies 
buried  there  under  the  magnolias,  and,  sometimes  I 
think  my  heart  is,  too."  Ladue,  junior,  would  sit  with 
flushing  cheek  and  downcast  eyes  and  say  nothing  at 
all.  It  was  Fred  who  would  take  up  the  case  for  him 
in  vehement  debate.  It  was  Elinor  who  would  look 
volumes  and  who  declared  it  good  to  see  how  faithful 
a  boy  could  be  to  all  the  old  home  ties  and  associations. 
It  was  Mrs.  Benton  who  had  been  his  best  and  most 
powerful  advocate  for  two  long  years,  and  then,  it  is 
hard  to  say  which  of  the  two  lads  more  bitterly  mourned 
her,  for,  the  year  before  our  story  opens,  the  gentle  lady 
had  been  borne  to  her  last  resting  place.  And  now  the 


22  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

war  had  come.  The  flag  had  been  lowered  in  defeat 
at  Sumter.  The  men  of  Massachusetts  had  been  mobbed 
in  the  streets  of  Baltimore.  The  first  levies  in  the  far 
West  had  clashed  with  the  enemy  in  Missouri,  and  hos 
tile  armies  were  arrayed  upon  the  sacred  soil  of  Vir 
ginia.  Now  when  the  young  men  of  the  Badger  State 
were  flocking  to  the  recruiting  offices,  and  companies 
and  regiments  were  being  filled  to  overflowing,  when 
Damon,  brimming  with  patriotic  zeal  and  energy,  was 
seeking  a  commission  in  the  Union  volunteers,  Pythias, 
Paul  Ladue,  was  known  to  be  writing  frequently,  doubt 
less  urgently,  to  his  native  State — the  State  that  had 
banished  and  impoverished  him,  yet  could  not  banish 
from  his  soul  the  old  time  loyalty  and  love.  It  had 
amazed  and  offended  many  of  these,  his  Northern 
friends  who  had  welcomed  and  cheered  him  in  the  hour 
of  his  adversity.  It  had  scandalized  one  man  who  had 
never  shown  him  sympathy  at  all — the  man  now  stand 
ing  uneasily  before  him,  unable  to  face  the  stern  glitter 
in  his  speaking  eyes.  It  was  finally  Paul  who  spoke: 

"  You  say  the  postmaster  should  do  his  duty,  Mr. 
McKinnon,"  said  he,  contempt  and  hot  hatred  in  his 
trembling  voice.  "  By  opening  my  letters,  do  you 
mean?  Somebody  has  been  doing  that  already,  and  I 
believe  you  know — who !  " 


CHAPTER   II 

A   SNAKE   IN   THE   GRASS 

June  the  first  came  in  with  the  radiant  sunshine  blaz 
ing  on  a  wealth  of  bunting.  From  staff  and  spire,  roof 
and  tower,  window  and  balcony  the  stars  and  stripes 
were  flung  to  the  breeze,  and  by  thousands  the  citizens 
had  thronged  the  broad  thoroughfares  to  give  a  parting 
cheer  to  the  second  Badger  regiment  marching  away  to 
the  war.  The  dusk  and  the  dew  came  settling  down  as 
the  tail  lights  of  the  last  section  of  the  troop  train  drew 
slowly  away  along  the  sweeping  curve  to  the  south,  and 
then  the  dense  throngs  that  had  shouted  themselves 
hoarse  as  the  big  battalion  rolled  away,  were  easily 
marshalled  into  an  impromptu  mass  meeting.  The 
Governor  and  the  Mayor  were  to  speak,  and  brief  ad 
dresses,  so  said  the  handbills,  might  be  expected  from 
such  brilliant  orators  as  the  Honorable  George  McKin- 
non  and  others  equally  well  known.  The  cathedral  bells 
had  chimed  the  hour  of  nine  of  the  long  June  evening, 
as  a  roar  of  cheers  about  the  temporary  stage  on  Market 
Square  greeted  the  executive  of  the  State  when  he  made 
his  bow  to  the  assembled  multitude — a  roar  distinctly 
heard  far  up  along  the  bluffs  and  on  the  narrow  portico 
of  the  modest  home,  where,  leaning  back  in  an  easy 


24:  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

chair,  Paul  Ladue,  looking  pale  and  weak,  sat  with  his 
slim  hand  clasped  in  that  of  his  faithful  friend,  Fred 
Benton. 

They  had  been  in  earnest  talk.  Events  had  crowded 
thick  in  the  life  of  young  Ladue  since  that  untoward 
meeting  on  the  bluffs.  The  long  suspected  and  slum 
bering  enmity  of  McKinnon  had  burst  at  last  into  furi 
ous  flame,  and  the  younger  man  found  himself  suddenly 
involved  in  a  whirl  of  trouble.  First  and  most  serious, 
the  elder  Benton,  after  a  conference  with  his  junior 
partner,  had  been  moved  to  say  to  Elinor  that  he  for 
bade  her  receiving  or  being  seen  with  Paul  Ladue.  He 
would  not  ask  her,  he  said,  if  there  had  been  love  mak 
ing  between  them,  he  knew  it,  and  as  she  was  but  a 
school  girl  and  Ladue  a  feather-brained  boy,  he  de 
manded  that  it  end  then  and  there.  To  Ladue  he  wrote 
a  cold,  cutting  letter,  accusing  him  of  having  taken  ad 
vantage  of  his  intimacy  in  the  household  to  seek  the 
love  and  destroy  the  peace  of  mind  of  his  daughter, 
when,  if  all  signs  and  only  some  of  the  stories  were  true, 
he  deserved  neither  home  nor  harbor  in  their  midst,  and 
ended  by  forbidding  him  the  house.  Then  one  or 
two  stinging  articles  had  found  their  way  into  an  even 
ing  paper,  plainly  pointing  to  Ladue  as  a  rebel  sym 
pathizer  and  one  holding  treasonable  correspondence 
with  the  enemy.  Then  certain  creditors  had  made  a 
combined  onslaught  on  his  failing,  heart-sore  father. 
Ladue  had  gradually  built  up  a  very  fair  business  and 
had  won  the  kindly  regard  of  the  community.  All  on  a 


A   SNAKE   IN   THE   GRASS  35 

sudden  his  store  was  shunned,  save  by  collectors,  and 
one  night,  after  a  meeting  at  which  McKinnon  was  the 
principal  speaker,  the  front  windows  were  smashed  in 
by  half  a  dozen  drunken  patriots  and  Paul,  seated  at  a 
desk  over  the  books  of  the  firm,  was  struck  in  the  temple 
and  felled  by  a  stone.  A  cry  of  shame  had  gone  up 
from  the  lips  of  a  few  lookers-on,  who  drove  the  roughs 
away  and  carried  the  stricken  lad  to  his  home.  The  in 
cident  brought  about  a  temporary  revulsion  of  feeling 
among  right-thinking  people  and  Fred  Benton  had 
found  and  soundly  thrashed  one  of  the  gang  of  assail 
ants.  But  little  substantial  comfort  could  come  to 
the  Ladues,  for  the  old  man  had  lost  his  nerve.  He 
seemed  broken  and  bewildered.  It  cut  him  to  the 
heart  to  find  that  at  this  critical  time  in  his  career,  the 
firm  to  present  and  press  the  claim  of  his  creditors 
was  that  of  Benton,  Gray  &  McKinnon.  He  had  the 
shattered  windows  boarded  up  and  refused  at  first  to 
reopen  his  store.  The  men  who  had  been  his  best 
friends  and  advisers,  as  luck  would  have  it,  had  already 
gone  to  the  front  as  officers  of  volunteers.  He  was 
crushed  and  sorely  hurt  and  stung,  and  the  well  meant 
words  of  sympathy  spoken  by  a  few  neighbors  failed  to 
reassure  him. 

It  was  then  that  Fred  Benton  had  his  first  difference 
with  his  father. 

;'  The  whole  outrage,  sir,"  said  he,  "  is  the  direct  re- 
suU  of  your  partner's  efforts.  I  hold  George  McKinnon 
responsible  for  every  misfortune  that  has  befallen  the 


26  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

Ladues  in  this  town,  and  the  only  reason  I  don't  thrash 
him  as  I  did  that  blackguard  Irishman  is  that  he  is  your 
partner." 

It  had  startled  and  then  angered  the  elder  man,  so 
loyal  and  devoted  had  his  son  ever  been  in  the  past. 
Well  he  knew  that,  though  some  letters  had  passed  in 
April  between  Paul  Ladue  and  persons  in  Alabama,  it 
was  impossible  to  prove  that  he  was  planningto  join  the 
Southern  army,  much  less  that  he  was  furnishing  infor 
mation,  or  "  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy."  Since  the 
first  of  May  the  worst  that  could  be  said  of  him  was  that 
he  had  sent  three  letters  to  a  certain  address  in  St. 
Louis,  and  that  three  missives  had  come  to  him  bearing 
the  St.  Louis  postmark.  Everybody  knew  that  St.  Louis 
was  infested  with  Southern  sympathizers  who  had  means 
of  communication  with  friends  beyond  the  line,  and  it 
was  these  letters  McKinnon  referred  to  when  he  dared 
to  suggest  that  it  was  the  postmaster's  duty  to  open 
them  and  learn  their  contents.  Not  yet  had  the  North 
reached  the  point  of  violating  the  sanctity  of  personal 
mail. 

"  So  far  from  its  being  McKinnon's  fault,"  the  elder 
Benton  answered,  as  soon  as  he  could  control  his  voice, 
"  I  hold  your  friend  Paul  solely  responsible.  McKinnon 
is  an  intensely  loyal  man,  and  he  and  I  both  are  indig 
nant  that  any  man  should  be  living  here  in  our  midst 
and  holding  treasonable  correspondence  with  the  enemy. 
You  will  do  well,  sir,  if  you  hope  for  a  commission,  to 
hold  aloof  from  so  dangerous  an  association." 


A  SNAKE   IN  THE   GRASS  27 

But  Fred  would  not  hold  aloof.  For  three  days  he 
was  constantly  at  the  Ladues,  comforting  Paul  as  best 
he  could,  and  on  this  evening  of  the  third  day,  after  rue 
fully,  enviously  bidding  adieu  to  many  a  friend  who  had 
marched  away  with  the  Second,  he  had  cut  loose  from 
the  crowd  and  returned  to  his  labor  of  love.  Entering 
the  shaded  gateway  he  had  been  surprised  to  see  a  vision 
in  white  seated  close  to  Paul's  reclining  chair,  and  con 
founded  and  troubled  to  find  that  it  was  Elinor.  Bravely 
she  had  risen  and  faced  him: — 

"  It  seems  that  it  is  not  enough  that  Paul  should  be 
forbidden  our  house,"  said  she,  with  strangely  calm  and 
controlled  manner,  "  but  this  afternoon  father  bade  me 
pack  my  trunk  and  be  ready  to  go  to  Aunt  Margaret 
to-morrow.  I  have  obeyed  him,  and  to-night  I  shall 
tell  him  that  I  came  here  to  bid  Paul  good-by."  Then, 
waiting  no  reply  she  turned  swiftly  to  the  invalid.  "  And 
now  I  must  go,  for  father  will  be  home  to  tea.  Thank 
you  again  for  your  promise,  Paul.  Be  sure  I  shall  make 
it  known,  and  then  you  will  see  how  quickly  everybody 
will  turn  again  to  you,  and  I'll  write  to  you — through 
Fred,  and — and  God  bless  you,  Paul!  "  Then  both  the 
white  hands  went  out  to  him  one  second  and  with  bowed 
head  she  hurried  away. 

"  What  was  the  promise,  Paul?"  asked  Benton,  after 
a  moment  of  silence. 

The  lad  looked  up,  his  dark  face  thinned  and  sad  and 
pale,  yet  there  was  a  soft,  tender  glow  in  the  deep  brown 
eyes.  "  I  told  Elinor  and  I  tell  you,  Fred,  that  if  I  had 


28  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

any  idea  that  duty  demanded  my  going  back  to  the  land 
of  my  birth — it  is  ended.  If  people  will  only  let  me 
stay  in  peace — my  place  is  here." 

"  Good  God,  Paul! "  was  the  almost  exultant  answer. 
"What  a  load  you've  lifted  from  my  mind!  What  a 
facer  this  will  be  to  McKinnon! " 

And  so  perhaps  it  might  have  been  had  it  become 
known  to  him  and  to  the  public  that  evening  before  he 
had  finished  his  impassioned  speech  and  had  exhibited 
a  certain  letter,  but  even  as  they  sat  there,  hand  in  hand, 
stalwart  Fred  Benton  and  fragile  looking  Paul  Ladue, 
the  sound  of  cheering  grew  fierce  and  frequent.  Some 
body  with  a  gift  of  oratory  and  the  power  to  move  men's 
souls  was  evidently  swaying  that  meeting  at  will.  Elinor, 
who  had  gone  home  to  give  her  father  his  tea,  was 
hardly  surprised  to  find  him  still  away,  and  the  evening 
wore  on  without  him.  In  the  dark  shadows  of  the 
broad  veranda  she  sat,  looking  at  the  dim  light  up  the 
street  where  dwelt  the  Ladues,  and  listening  to  the 
cheering  that  told  unerringly  the  stirring  effect  of  the 
speaker's  words.  Ten  o'clock  had  come  and  gone,  and 
still  she  sat  there  and  still  no  one  appeared  who  could 
say  what  was  going  on  at  the  Square.  It  must  have 
been  half  after  ten  when  a  final  and  prolonged  burst  of 
cheering  seemed  to  announce  the  close  of  the  orator's 
speech  and  presumably  the  breaking  up  of  the  meeting, 
and  then  far  down  the  street  there  came  the  sound  of 
swift  running  footsteps,  and  presently,  panting  and  ex 
cited,  a  young  man,  a  near  neighbor,  darted  into  view 


A   SNAKE   IN   THE   GRASS  39 

under  the  glare  of  the  nearest  gas  lamp  and  rushed  on 
toward  the  lake.  Hurrying  down  to  the  front  gate, 
Elinor  heard  rather  than  saw  him  speeding  eastward 
until  nearly  opposite  the  Ladues,  then  he  went  bound 
ing  across  the  broad,  unpaved  and,  in  places,  grass- 
grown  street,  and  faintly  she  could  hear  the  challenge  of 
manly  young  voices.  What  did  this  portend? 

Away  to  the  west,  down  in  the  valley  of  the  river,  a 
confused  murmur  rose  upon  the  night — a  murmur  rap 
idly  augmenting  in  depth  and  volume  as  it  seemed  to 
be  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  Then  to  her  amaze 
came  Fred  to  the  front  gate,  half  lifting,  half  leading 
a  slim-built,  reluctant  youth  whose  voice  she  knew  on 
the  instant,  whose  form  she  knew  at  a  glance.  "  You 
must,  Paul,"  she  heard  Fred  saying,  low  and  stern.  "  I 
can't  lick  a  thousand  fellow  citizens.  The  only  thing  is 
to  get  you  in  some  safe  harbor  until  this  blows  over. 
Yes,  I  know  father  forbade  you  the  house,  but  he  never 
dreamed  of  this,  and  were  he  home  he  would  act  exactly 
as  I  am  acting." 

So  saying  he  had  half  lifted,  half  run  the  helpless 
young  Southerner  into  the  forbidden  grounds.  Then, 
opening  the  cellar  door,  he  plunged  his  unwilling  pris 
oner  into  the  dark  depths,  took  him  a  candle  from  the 
kitchen  and  bounded  back  to  the  front  gate  just  in  time 
to  see  a  throng  of  men,  covering  the  street  from  curb 
to  curb,  sweeping  silently  up  the  wide  thoroughfare, 
passing  him  by  with  hardly  a  gleam  of  recognition,  and 


30  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

finally  halting  nearly  two  blocks  away  in  front  of  the 
little  homestead  of  the  Ladues. 

Just  then  the  Squire  appeared,  springing  from  a  hack 
that  had  driven  swiftly  on  the  trail  of  the  crowd,  and 
started  at  sight  of  his  son,  standing  there  like  sentry 
at  the  gate.  The  elder's  face  was  pale  and  beads  of 
sweat  were  starting  from  his  brow.  "  Is  Elinor  home?  " 
was  his  first  question. 

"  I  am  here,  father,"  came  the  answer,  clear,  yet  low, 
and  with  slow,  deliberate  step  the  girl  came  forward 
down  the  gravel  walk. 

"  I — I  wish  you  to  go  to  your  room,  child.  There — 
there  may  be  trouble  here  presently.  The  people  are — 
over  excited." 

"  Trouble  for  whom,  father?  "  was  the  calm  question 
as,  apparently  ignoring  his  injunction,  Elinor  came 
straight  onward  until  she  stood  by  her  brother's  side. 
The  strong  arm  on  which  she  laid  her  little  white  hand 
was  trembling,  partly  the  result  of  recent  exertion, 
partly  from  intense  excitement. 

"  You  may  as  well  know,"  was  the  half  hesitant  reply. 
"  Just  as  I  foresaw,  young  Ladue  yonder  has  got  to 
face  the  music.  They  have  evidence  to  prove  that  he  is 
in  the  rebel  service." 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  swore  Fred  Denton,  between  his  clinched 
teeth. 

"  It's  the  miserable  truth,"  said  his  father.  "  Listen!  " 
Somebody  was  again  haranguing  the  crowd,  now  com 
pletely  filling  the  street  from  block  to  block  only  four 


A   SNAKE    IN   THE   GRASS  31 

hundred  yards  away,  while  men  and  boys,  jabbering 
excitedly,  were  still  hurrying  by  the  Bentons  to  join  the 
throng.  Presently  the  voice  rose  higher  and  clearer, 
and  they  recognized  it  at  once.  "  Your  committee  have 
searched  the  house,  fellow  citizens,  and  have  failed  to 
find  this  misguided  young  man.  Moreover,  I  have  the 
assurance  of  his  aged  and  unhappy  father  that  his  erring 
son  is  not  here — that,  warned  by  his  own  conscience  or 
some  still  deluded  friend,  he  fled  full  half  an  hour  ago. 
It  is  not  conceivable  that  he  would  remain  here  over 
night.  Already  he  is  probably  beyond  the  suburbs. 
Banishment  from  our  midst  was  what  you  demanded, 
and  the  sentence  is  self-executed.  Let  me  urge  you, 
therefore,  in  the  interests  of  law  and  order,  to  quietly 
disperse.  Let  me " 

But  here  the  speaker's  voice  was  drowned  in  shouts 
of  wrath  and  impatience,  and  before  he  could  again 
make  himself  heard  a  mighty  bass  was  uplifted  over  the 
clamor  and  in  tones  that  could  be  heard  four  blocks 
away  these  words  were  bellowed  on  the  startled  ear  of 
night : — 

"  They  tarred  and  feathered  and  rode  our  teachers  on 
a  rail  for  no  cause  whatever.  I  move,  by  God!  that 
before  we  let  Paul  Ladue  wear  a  rebel  coat  we  give 
him  one  of  tar  and  feathers.  /  know  where  to  find  him." 

It  was  the  riff  raff  of  the  city,  let  it  be  remembered, 
that  made  up  the  bulk  of  the  crowd, — the  idler,  the  loafer, 
the  saloon  hanger-on,  the  same  class  precisely  that  six 


32  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

weeks  before  had  mobbed  the  men  of  Massachusetts  in 
the  streets  of  Baltimore — a  gang  ever  ready  for  rapine 
and  outrage,  the  counterpart  of  the  human  wolves  that 
seventy  years  earlier  had  drenched  the  streets  of  Paris 
with  the  blood  of  the  gentlest,  noblest  born  of  the  fair 
land  of  France.  Of  the  thousand  shouting  and  swaying 
there  in  the  dim  light  of  the  city  lamps  probably  not  fifty 
men  were  tax-payers  or  respectable  citizens,  and,  all  too 
late,  George  McKinnon  began  to  realize  that  he  was  now 
powerless  to  quench  the  train  his  vehement  oratory  had 
fired.  A  new  leader  had  sprung  to  the  front,  a  giant 
blacksmith,  a  man  whose  sledge  hammer  had  beaten  in 
the  jail  doors  barely  four  years  previous,  and  rescued 
from  the  hands  of  the  Federal  authorities  a  luckless  fugi 
tive  slave  who  had  been  caught  when  almost  in  sight 
of  freedom  and  Canadian  soil  and  meekly  surrendered 
to  the  agent  of  his  owners  in  deference  to  the  hateful 
laws  of  the  day.  Madly  they  cheered  him,  breaking  a 
way  westward  through  their  midst  until  the  open  street 
lay  before  him.  Then,  facing  his  excited  followers  a 
moment,  he  shouted,  "You  who  are  with  me,  come  on!  " 
turned  and  went  striding  down  the  street. 

"  My  God,"  cried  Mr.  Benton.  "  They  are  coming 
here!" 

Running  toward  them  along  the  sidewalk,  distancing 
the  crowd,  pale  now  and  trembling,  came  McKinnon. 
"  Quick!  "  he  cried.  "  Let  me  take  Miss  Elinor  round 
to  Judge  Meredith's.  She's  safe  there.  Come — come, 
Elinor,"  he  pleaded,  with  outstretched  hand.  But  the 


A  SNAKE   IN  THE   GRASS  33 

blue  eyes  looked  him  over  with  utter  indifference.  She 
would  not  even  vouchsafe  reply. 

"  What  in  heaven's  name  have  you  done,  McKin- 
non?  "  cried  the  father.  "  Surely  you  ought  to  have 
known  it  was  playing  with  fire  to  arouse  these  ruffians. 
But  they  shall  not  touch  me  or  mine!  They  shall  not 
enter  this  gate !  Go  in  doors,  child,"  he  continued,  turn 
ing  suddenly  to  her.  But  now  it  was  McKinnon  who 
detained. 

"Stop!  You  must  see,"  said  he.  "Here  is  what 
came  for  him  this  very  night.  Now  do  you  believe?  " 

Benton  took  the  heavy  envelope  extended  to  him.  It 
bore  the  St.  Louis  postmark.  It  had  been  sliced  open 
with  a  knife.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Paul  Ladue,  Esq., 

Bookseller  and  Stationer,  East  Water  Street,  , 

and  it  contained  another  envelope  still  sealed  and  un 
broken,  addressed  in  round,  clerkly  hand  to  First  Lieu 
tenant  Paul  Ladue,  Eleventh  Alabama  Infantry,  and 
bore  at  the  upper  left  hand  corner  the  letters  so  often 
used  in  the  old  days  of  the  old  army,  O.  P.  S.  (on  public 
service),  instead  of  the  later  shibboleth  of  the  War  De 
partment,  "  Official  Business." 

"  It  is  fatal,"  said  the  veteran  lawyer,  with  a  gasp  of 
dismay. 

"  It  is  a  forgery!  "  said  Fred,  his  son,  whereat  McKin 
non  started  as  though  stung.  And  now  the  mob,  headed 
by  Hugh  Gale,  came  swarming  to  their  gate,  and  their 
spokesman,  in  his  resounding  basso,  addressed  himself 
to  the  master. 

3 


34  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

"  Squire  Benton,  it  is  my  belief  that  the  man  we  want 
is  hidden  here  on  your  premises.  Your  son  has  long 
been  his  most  intimate  friend.  Mr.  Ladue  invited  our 
committee  to  enter  and  search.  Will  you  do  the  same? 
Or  are  you  going  to  shelter  rebel  spies  and  traitors?" 

"  You  are  not  going  to  enter  and  search,"  answered 
Benton,  sturdily.  "  This  city  has  been  my  home  since 
it  was  a  mere  village.  For  twenty  years  I  have  worked 
with  it  and  for  it  and  no  man,  woman  or  child  in  this 
community  can  point  to  a  wrong  done  to  one  of  your 
number  by  me  or  mine.  This  is  my  home,  and  by  the 
Eternal,  you  shall  not  violate  it!  " 

"  Hear  me,  fellow  citizens,"  cried  McKinnon,  clam 
bering  on  the  gate  and  grasping  the  boughs  of  the 
mountain  ash  trees  that  stood  close  on  either  hand. 
"  Hear  me  one  minute!  " 

"Shut  up!"  yelled  the  crowd.  "Go  ahead,  Gale. 
We're  with  you,"  and  suiting  action  to  word  a  score  of 
the  populace  began  climbing  the  old-fashioned  white 
picket  fence  and  striving  to  burst  a  way  through  the 
thick  hedge  of  rose  bushes  and  sturdy  young  trees  that 
stretched  from  flank  to  flank  along  the  front  of  the  lot. 
Others,  running  round  to  the  west,  swarmed  to  the  flat- 
topped  fence  bounding  the  yard  on  that  side,  and  two 
of  their  number,  truculent  and  daring,  leaped  down  upon 
the  flower-beds  and  came  lunging  out  across  the  grass 
plot.  In  an  instant  Fred  Benton,  breaking  from  Elinor's 
restraining  hands,  sprang  to  confront  them,  and  without 
a  word,  sent  his  clinched  fist  square  at  the  leader's  jaw 


A   SNAKE   IN   THE   GRASS  35 

and  tumbled  him,  crashing  and  cursing,  among  the  pan- 
sies.  His  fellows  recoiled  to  the  fence,  and  a  howl  of 
mingled  wrath  and  admiration  went  up  from  the  mob. 
Then  somebody  picked  up  a  huge  clod  from  a  pile  of 
soft,  fresh-cut  sod  that  stood  by  the  tree  box  at  the 
edge  of  the  gutter,  and  with  practiced  hand  hurled  it  at 
McKinnon.  It  took  that  portly  counselor  'twixt  midriff 
and  gorge,  just  as  a  bulky  vegetable,  hurtling  through 
gaslit  space,  landed  full  on  his  distended  cheek.  The 
combined  impact  proved  too  much  for  his  equilibrium 
and,  to  the  shrill  delight  of  the  masses,  down  he  went, 
ripping  out  a  branch  of  mountain  ash  and  a  gasp  of 
mingled  protest  and  profanity.  For  an  instant  the  on 
ward  impulse  of  the  crowd  was  stayed,  and  Gale  again 
began  to  rumble  in  dramatic  speech  when  of  a  sudden 
there  arose  from  the  throats  of  the  mob  a  yell  of  tri 
umph  and  rejoicing,  for  there,  at  the  head  of  the  steps, 
bareheaded  in  the  soft  moonlight,  between  the  white 
columns  of  the  portico,  stood  Paul  Ladue,  facing  them 
with  flashing  eyes  and  without  a  tremor.  Another  in 
stant  and  before  Fred  could  interpose,  light  and  agile, 
he  bounded  down  the  steps,  across  the  lawn  and  vaulted 
to  the  flat-topped  fence  at  the  corner,  lighting  like  a  cat 
on  his  feet,  and  confronted  them  with  uplifted  hand  as 
though  demanding  to  be  heard. 

For  a  moment  the  yells  and  shouts  continued,  and 
there  was  a  rush  of  the  crowd  to  the  side  street.  Then 
curiosity  prevailed,  and  between  cries  of  "Silence!" 
"Dry  up!"  "Listen,  fellers,  let's  hear  what  he  has  to 


36  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

say,"  and  some  vigorous  hissing,  comparative  quiet  was 
restored,  and  in  ringing,  silvery  tones,  quivering,  per 
haps  with  excitement,  but  never  a  sign  of  fear,  Ladue 
addressed  them. 

"  Who  accuses  me — and  of  what  am  I  accused?  "  he 
cried. 

"You're  a  damned  spy—"  "Rebel—"  "Traitor—" 
"  Here,  give  us  that  letter,  Squire,"  were  the  yells  from 
the  crowd.  And  then  big  Gale,  the  blacksmith,  tore  a 
way  round  to  the  side  and  waved  under  the  pale,  quiver 
ing  face  McKinnon's  contribution  to  the  evening's  dis 
turbance — the  letter  he  would  now  have  been  glad  to 
withdraw.  "  What  have  you  to  say  to  this,  Mr.  Lieu 
tenant  Paul  Ladue,  Eleventh  Alabama?  " 

"  I  say  it's  a  forgery  and  a  lie !  "  was  the  ringing  an 
swer. 

"  Any  man  would,  fixed  as  you  are,"  boomed  the 
blacksmith.  "  Do  you  deny  corresponding  with  your 
rebel  crowd  in  Alabama,  too?" 

"  No,  and  you  can  see  their  letters  any  time  you 
wish." 

"Damn  their  letters!"  shouted  Gale.  Then  facing 
the  crowd.  "  Fellow  citizens,  what  shall  we  do  with 
him?" 

Up  went  a  chorus  of  curses  and  yells,  in  the  midst  of 
which  Fred  Benton  sprang  to  the  fence  beside  his  friend, 
and  his  father  vainly  shouted,  begging  to  be  heard. 
"  You  be  quiet,  Squire,"  answered  the  nearmost.  "  We 
don't  want  you — you're  all  right."  Fred  was  felled  by 


A   SNAKE   IN   THE   GRASS  37 

a  stone  that  struck  him  full  in  the  forehead.  Paul 
Ladue's  legs  were  jerked  from  under  him  and  he  was 
dragged,  struggling  and  striking  at  every  face  within 
reach,  and  borne  away,  the  vortex  of  a  whirlpool  of  rag 
ing  humanity  whose  hoarse  shoutings  gradually  died 
to  distant  roar  as  they  surged  onward  down  the  slope 
to  Market  Square,  Benton  and  McKinnon  vainly  fol 
lowing,  imploring  and  protesting.  Then  one  level 
headed  lad  ran  like  a  deer  to  the  quarters  of  a  cadet 
company  across  the  river,  and  while  Elinor  knelt  there 
by  her  stricken  brother,  chafing  his  hand  and  bathing 
his  discolored  brow,  the  court-house  bell  in  rapid  clang, 
pealed  out  the  alarm  of  fire. 

An  hour  later,  limp  and  exhausted,  in  the  care  of  a 
physician,  and  escorted  to  the  pier  by  Benton  and  cer 
tain  city  officials,  the  victim  of  mob  fury  was  borne  to 
a  stateroom  on  the  "  Northern  Light "  and  so  on  to 
Chicago. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   FIRST   UNIFORM 

And  then  for  many  a  week  there  came  no  word  from 
Paul  Ladue.  At  the  little  frame  cottage  near  the  lake 
a  sad-eyed,  submissive,  broken  man  sat  long  hours  each 
day  in  a  worn  old  rocking-chair,  apathetic,  uncomplain 
ing,  yet  looking  wistfully  into  the  faces  of  the  few  who 
came  to  see  him  as  though  imploring  news  of  his  now 
doubly  banished  boy.  The  children — Nina,  a  fond  little 
daughter  of  fourteen,  and  Alphonse,  a  merry-eyed  lad 
of  ten,  sought  vainly  to  rouse  him.  There  was  not 
business  enough  at  the  shop  to  call  him  thither.  People 
had  no  time  for  books  in  the  war  days.  They  read  only 
the  papers,  and,  many  of  them,  only  the  news  and  rumors 
from  the  front.  Through  the  efforts  of  Squire  Benton 
a  reliable,  if  not  over  bright,  young  man  was  found  to 
take  charge  of  what  was  left  of  the  stock  in  trade,  and 
to  supply  the  casual  wants  of  school  children  in  search 
of  sponges  and  slate  pencils,  or  elders  in  need  of  station 
ery  with  which  to  write  to  the  boys  now  in  camp  by 
thousands  along  the  line  of  the  Potomac  and  the  Ohio. 
Weak  eyes  and  legs  had  led  to  his  rejection  when  surg 
ing  patriotism  prompted  him  to  throw  up  the  charge 
of  a  ward  school  and  present  himself  as  food  for  pow- 


THE   FIRST   UNIFORM  39 

der,  and  in  sore  disappointment  he  meekly  took  the 
tendered  place.  At  least  it  would  give  him  abundant 
time  to  read  and  study. 

In  still  other  ways  did  the  Squire  seek  to  aid  the 
needy  household  and,  all  unrebuked  now,  Elinor  went 
day  after  day  to  see  Ladue  and  the  fragile  woman,  his 
wife,  who  never  left  her  room.  Womanfully  did  she 
strive  to  cheer  the  aging  and  to  guide  the  young,  and 
rarely  did  she  go  empty  handed.  All  through  the  long, 
hot  summer  of  '61  she  was  ever  slipping  over  to  the 
cottage  and  ever  coming  back  with  pathetic  sadness  in 
her  sweet  blue  eyes.  There  was  still  no  further  news 
from  Paul — Paul  who  after  rude  mauling  and  man 
handling,  had  escaped  the  threatened  tar  and  feathering 
only  because  the  gas  works  and  the  tar  were  far  away, 
the  fire  department  and  two  companies  of  young  State 
troops  close  at  hand.  The  firemen  manned  their  brakes, 
and  the  powerful  streams  of  cold  water  cast  a  damper 
on  the  enthusiasm  of  the  mob.  The  soldiers  fixed  their 
bayonets,  enabling  the  mayor  and  certain  leading  men 
to  bore  a  way  to  the  midst  of  the  throng,  to  rescue  the 
exhausted  lad,  and  later  to  bear  him  out  of  harm's  way, 
but  that  ill-born  effort  to  crush  and  outrage  the  high 
spirited  fellow  had  turned  the  scale.  In  one  brief  let 
ter  from  St.  Louis,  Paul  had  announced  his  intention  of 
making  his  way  to  Mobile.  After  that — who  could  say? 

And  Fred,  too,  Elinor's  stanch  ally  and  supporter, 
was  gone.  Denied  a  commission  in  the  earlier  regi 
ments  of  his  native  State,  for  the  reason  that  the  men 


40  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

demanded  the  right  to  elect  their  officers  from  among 
these  enlisting  with  them,  a  course  which  his  father  had 
forbidden,  he  had  found  life  well  nigh  unbearable  after 
the  almost  tragic  events  of  that  night  in  June,  and  so 
boldly  wrote  a  long,  urgent,  appealing  letter  to  a  gen 
eral  officer — an  old  soldier  of  the  Old  Army — who,  since 
before  the  days  of  the  Mexican  War  and  until  recalled 
to  active  service  in  the  spring  of  '61,  had  made  the 
Badger  State  his  home,  and  that  vehement,  vigorous 
letter  the  General  took  and  laid  before  the  President 
himself. 

This  was  before  the  first  serious  eye-opener — the  bat 
tle  of  Bull  Run,  and  the  tall,  ungainly  son  of  the  West 
was  still  able  to  see  the  whimsical  side  of  things,  un- 
tinged  by  the  infinite  sadness  and  suffering  of  the  days 
to  come. 

"  Wants  to  be  a  soldier  and  to  sink  the  law,  does  he?  " 
said  the  President,  stretching  his  long,  lean  legs  under 
neath  the  table  and  running  his  huge  hand  through  the 
crop  of  bristling  hair  that  crowned  his  forehead  like  a 
hedgerow,  "  and  the  Squire  won't  let  him  enlist, — I  met 
Benton  once  at  Rice's  caravanserai  there  in  Chicago — 
and  the  boys  won't  have  anybody  that  doesn't  start  even 
with  them?  Well,  General,  I  see  only  one  way  out  of 
this  fix — that  is  to  make  him  a  second  lieutenant  of 
regulars,  unless,"  he  continued,  with  a  twitch  about  the 
corners  of  his  broad  mouth,  "  unless  I  appoint  him  a 
brigadier-general.  According  to  some  of  the  papers  I 
may  have  done  worse.  Which  shall  it  be?  " 


THE  FIRST   UNIFORM  41 

"  The  second  lieutenancy  will  appeal  to  him,  I  think, 
sir,"  said  the  General,  "  and  then  I  can  appoint  him 
aide-de-camp  and  teach  him  practical  soldiering  so  that 
he  won't  be  utterly  a  novice  when  he  goes  to  his  regi 
ment.  I  know  the  lad  and  am  under  many  an  obliga 
tion  to  his  father." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  President.  And  so  it  happened 
that  two  days  later  there  came  to  Fred  a  wire  from 
Washington  bidding  him  join  his  General  there  forth 
with,  and  within  another  forty-eight  hours  he  was  gone, 
eager,  ambitious  and  full  of  intense  zeal  and  resolution, 
determined  to  make  a  name  for  himself.  For  a  few 
days  in  mid  July  he  was  home  again  as  aide  to  the  Gen 
eral,  who  had  been  ordered  thither  to  help  the  State 
authorities  in  the  organization  of  still  more  regiments. 
Very  tall  and  stiff  and  "  swagger  "  he  looked  in  his 
Eastern-made  uniform,  a  vivid  contrast  to  many  an  old 
school  friend  whose  first  blue  frock  coat  seemed  more 
like  an  off-color  edition  of  some  clerical  garment  than 
the  garb  of  a  soldier.  Fearfully  and  wonderfully  were 
they  made — those  uniforms  of  our  Western  volunteers, 
and  much  did  they  of  the  great  army  about  Washington 
marvel  and  make  merry  at  the  sight  of  the  officers  of  the 
few  regiments  from  Badger  and  Hoosierdom  chosen  to 
represent  their  States  on  the  "  sacred  soil "  of  Eastern 
Virginia.  Yet  were  they  little  more  ungainly  than  those 
worn  by  the  new-made  militaires  from  Maine  and  New 
Hampshire.  Fred  Benton,  however,  had  been  taken  in 
hand  by  a  soldier  nephew  of  his  General — a  young  New 


£2  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

Yorker,  long  time  of  the  Seventh  and  now,  like  Fred, 
of  the  regular  infantry,  and  a  famous  old  army  tailor  had 
taken  his  measure,  his  orders  and  his  promptly  tendered 
cash  with  all  alacrity,  to  the  end  that  when  he  appeared 
with  his  chief  on  the  familiar  streets  at  home,  all  that 
bustling  young  metropolis  marvelled  at  the  change  that 
had  come  over  him.  A  fine  stalwart  specimen  of  Saxon 
manhood  when  he  went  toward  the  end  of  June,  he  had 
returned  to  them  in  mid  July  erect,  soldierly  and  stun 
ningly  clad,  the  admiration  of  every  girl  in  town — almost 
the  adoration  of  his  sister. 

And  about  the  first  thing  Fred  Benton  had  done  on 
his  return  was  to  snub,  if  not  actually  insult,  his  father's 
junior  partner,  between  whom  and  that  father  relations 
were  already  severely  strained. 

Never  yet  had  George  McKinnon  been  able  to  satis 
factorily  explain  how  that  letter  addressed  to  Paul 
Ladue  had  come  into  his  possession.  Important  as  it 
doubtless  was  held  to  be,  as  evidence  of  Ladue's  active 
sympathy  with  the  Rebellion,  there  were  not  a  few  re 
sponsible  citizens  who  declared  the  postmaster  gravely 
culpable  for  surrendering  it  to  any  but  the  lawful  owner. 
Whereat  the  postmaster  on  hearing  of  the  cry  against 
him  came  out  with  a  card  in  the  "  Watchman,"  insisting 
that  the  letter  had  been  placed  by  the  distributing  clerk 
in  the  Ladue  box,  which  was  at  least  six  feet  from  the 
general  delivery  window,  and  that  neither  he  nor  any 
one  of  the  employes  had  subsequently  touched  it  except, 
possibly,  when  handing  out  the  little  packet  of  mail 


THE   FIRST   UNIFORM  43 

called  for  by  Paul  Ladue  in  person.  Whether  Mr. 
McKinnon  got  that  letter  by  fair  means  or  foul  it  was 
after  it  had  passed  from  the  postoffice  into  the  hands 
of  the  addressee,  for  since  Ladue  senior's  illness  only 
to  Paul  had  their  mail  been  delivered  up  to  the  very  day 
of  his  sudden  and  enforced  departure.  This  complicated 
the  problem,  and  there  was  now  no  Paul  to  explain  how 
he  came  to  lose  or  part  with  it. 

Moreover  the  postmaster,  being  exceeding  wroth  at 
McKinnon,  told  several  prominent  citizens  that  no  less 
than  thrice  had  McKinnon  called  on  him  at  the  office 
and  endeavored  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  his  bounden 
duty  to  open  any  letter  that  came  from  St.  Louis  or 
the  South  for  Paul  Ladue  and  to  ascertain  the  contents. 
On  the  first  occasion  McKinnon  clearly  showed  that  he 
had  been  keeping  watch  on  Ladue's  mail  by  saying 
"  There's  a  big  letter  in  his  box  from  St.  Louis  now/' 
and  the  postmaster  admitted  having  gone  with  McKin 
non  to  the  box,  having  taken  the  letter  out  and  "hefted" 
it,  as  he  said,  and  studied  the  handwriting  and  super 
scription  and  having  allowed  McKinnon  to  do  the  same, 
but  it  was  not  opened  by  either  of  them.  He  would 
never  allow  that.  Questioned  further,  the  postmaster 
admitted  that  one  day  toward  the  end  of  May  young 
Ladue  had  come  to  him  "  mad  clear  through,"  and  de 
clared  that  some  one  had  been  tampering  with  his  mail 
and  showed  him  one  of  those  big,  bulky  missives  in  the 
long  official  envelope  that  had  been  sliced  open  with  a 
sharp  knife — must  have  been  in  that  condition  when 


44  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

handed  to  him,  said  Paul,  although  he  did  not  discover 
it  until  he  reached  the  store.  Every  clerk  in  the  office 
protested  his  innocence  and  the  postmaster  had  not  the 
ghost  of  an  idea  who  was  the  culprit. 

Naturally  matters  looked  squally  for  McKinnon.  He 
had  been  popular,  but  the  better  class  of  people  felt  that 
Paul  Ladue  had  been  harshly,  even  outrageously,  dealt 
with,  and  that  McKinnon's  insidious,  if  not  fiery 
speeches  were  the  direct  cause.  Moreover,  there  were 
many  in  the  community  who  scouted  the  story  told  re 
garding  the  letter.  He  found  it,  he  declared,  lying  on 
his  desk  on  the  morning  of  the  great  meeting,  with  a 
card  bearing  only  the  words,  "  See  within."  The  en 
velope  was  slit  smoothly  open,  and,  never  stopping  to 
note  the  address  thereon,  he  was  amazed  to  find  within 
another  envelope,  sealed,  and  the  superscription  was  of 
such  startling  importance  that  he  deemed  it  his  duty 
to  exhibit  it  to  friends,  in  fact  to  everybody,  that  they 
might  know  a  traitor — a  spy — was  in  their  midst.  He 
might  have  erred,  but  as  a  loyal  American  he  conceived 
that  nothing  less  could  he  do. 

But  a  revulsion  of  feeling  had  set  in.  Before  leaving 
for  Washington  there  had  been  ample  time  for  Fred 
Benton  to  spread  abroad  Ladue's  declaration  that  noth 
ing  would  persuade  him  to  cast  his  lot  with  the  South, 
provided  he  could  be  permitted  to  remain  here  in  peace. 
He  felt  that  his  duty  was  with  his  aging  father.  Elinor, 
too,  with  flushing  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes,  had  told  the 
tale  from  house  to  house.  The  physician  employed  by 


THE   FIRST   UNIFORM  45 

Benton  and  others  to  go  with  Paul  to  Chicago  came 
back  full  of  sympathy  for  his  patient  and  wrath  at  the 
populace.  Such  was  the  state  of  feeling  that  Gale,  the 
would-be  heroic  leader  of  public  sentiment,  awoke  to 
the  fact  that  it  might  be  wise  for  him  to  cross  the  Lake 
and  visit  kith  and  kin  among  the  Wolverines,  for  city 
officials  had  come  and  asked  ugly  questions,  and  there 
was  talk  of  arrest  and  indictment  for  inciting  riot.  He 
swore  that  no  violence  had  been  offered  Ladue,  that  he 
had  simply  "  led  him  along  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck," 
and  that  Ladue's  exhaustion  was  due  to  his  own  frantic 
struggles.  But  the  leading  journals,  morning  and  even 
ing,  denounced  the  whole  affair — McKinnon,  who  had 
been  the  Democratic  candidate  for  city  attorney  at  the 
spring  election,  coming  in  for  an  especial  scoring  from 
the  Republican  press,  and  finding  no  defenders  among 
the  papers  of  his  own  political  persuasion. 

McKinnon  called  at  the  Bentons  and  asked  to  see 
Miss  Elinor,  and  Miss  Elinor  asked  to  be  excused. 
Then  he  wrote  to  her — a  long  letter,  full  of  argument, 
explanation  and  regret,  and  she  answered  in  a  short 
note,  saying  that  she  trusted  he  fully  realized  the  wrong 
he  had  done,  hoped  that  his  regret  was  sincere  and  that 
he  would  find  means  to  make  amends,  and  that  was  all 
she  would  say.  Benton,  senior,  quite  approved  her 
conduct  at  the  time,  for  there  had  been  words  between 
the  partners — unpleasant  words.  Impartial  listeners 
were  compelled  to  say,  however,  that  the  words  were 
Benton's  own,  for  McKinnon  hardly  opened  his  lips  ex- 


46  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

cept  in  restrained  and  respectful  protest.  It  must  be 
owned  that  no  sooner  was  poor  Paul  well  out  of  the 
way  than  McKinnon's  words  and  deeds  became  almost 
saint-like — so  meek,  so  forgiving  and  tolerant  did  he 
become.  He  had  even  gone  to  the  Ladues  and  talked 
to  the  unhappy  old  father  and  dilated  on  his  efforts  to 
turn  the  heart  of  the  crowd  and  protect  Paul  from  in 
dignity  or  violence.  He  declared  that  it  was  due  to  him 
that  the  troops  were  called  out  and  that  the  firemen 
came  and  drenched  the  frantic  crowd.  He  chose  the 
hour  when  he  knew  Elinor  was  visiting  the  stricken 
mother,  and  he  hung  about  until  long  after  dinner  time, 
expecting  her  to  come  down  and  be  waylaid.  Keen  was 
his  chagrin  when  pert  little  Nina  danced  in  and  an 
nounced  that  if  he  were  waiting  for  Elinor  Benton  he 
was  wasting  his  time.  She  had  slipped  out  the  back 
way  nearly  an  hour  before. 

Then  McKinnon  ordered  supplies  of  various  kinds  sent 
to  the  Ladues — some  choice  claret  and  dainties  in  the 
way  of  fruit,  but  Mrs.  Ladue  could  not  be  induced  to 
touch  either.  Ladue  himself  was  a  total  abstainer.  The 
wine  lay  neglected  in  the  cellar.  The  children  gorged 
themselves  with  the  fruit,  and  no  good  was  done  by 
the  gifts. 

Then  came  the  General  with  aide-de-camp  Fred,  and 
the  former  responded  to  McKinnon's  greeting  with  cold 
and  distant  civility.  The  latter  asked  him  what  he  had 
done  with  Ladue's  letter  and  refused  his  proffered  hand. 
It  was  lucky  the  General  had  to  take  his  young  staff 


THE   FIRST  UNIFORM  47 

officer  to  the  State  capital,  whence  they  were  recalled 
to  Washington  just  in  time  to  meet  the  demoralized 
wreck  of  McDowell's  raw,  untaught  regiments,  drifting 
in  from  the  disaster  of  First  Bull  Run. 

And  then  the  nation  woke  up  in  earnest  to  a  realiza 
tion  of  the  fact  that  the  South  had  men  as  brave  as  the 
best  in  the  land  and  leaders  more  skillful  than  those 
we  had  yet  sent  afield.  Then  it  became  apparent  that 
not  until  it  was  thoroughly  organized,  drilled  and  dis 
ciplined  could  a  Northern  army  hope  to  subdue  the 
array  of  the  South.  With  them  there  seemed  to  be  but 
one  heart,  one  thought,  one  purpose.  They  were  a 
people  united  in  their  determination  to  effect  a  divorce 
from  the  old  Government  and  to  set  up  for  themselves 
a  republic  with  that  peculiar  institution,  human  slavery, 
guaranteed  for  all  time.  With  us  there  was  wide  divi 
sion  of  sentiment,  and  many  a  worthy  citizen  could  not 
be  made  to  see  that  the  success  of  the  South  meant  the 
wreck  and  ruin  of  what  promised  to  be  the  grandest 
republic,  the  most  enlightened  and  powerful  nation  on 
the  face  of  the  globe.  What  made  the  task  of  that 
God-given,  heaven-inspired  President  phenomenal  in 
magnitude  and  difficulty  was  the  fact  that,  strong  and 
skillful  as  was  the  army  that  menaced  the  Capital  from 
the  front,  there  was  another  enemy,  equally  strong  in 
point  of  numbers,  and  skillful  in  argument,  debate  and 
intrigue,  that  sorely  hampered  his  herculean  task,  at 
tacking  him  from  the  rear.  The  war  was  not  a  fortnight 
old  before  the  hiss  of  the  Copperhead  was  heard 


48  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

throughout  the  land.  Only  one  man  before  him  in  the 
history  of  our  national  life  had  had  to  encounter  such 
widespread,  insidious,  treacherous  opposition  at  the 
hands  of  the  very  people  he  was  so  grandly  serving,  and 
only  that  man,  George  Washington,  was  great  enough, 
strong  enough,  to  rise  superior  to  every  personal  slight, 
Congressional  cabal  or  political  calumny  and  subor 
dinate  everything,  as  later  did  our  immortal  Lincoln,  to 
the  glorious  end  in  view — the  establishment  and  main 
tenance  of  that  government  of  the  people,  by  the  people 
and  for  the  people  that  should  not  perish  from  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

But  the  rugged  features  had  already  begun  to  take  on 
a  shade  of  anxiety.  The  lines  were  digging  farther  in 
about  the  sombre  eyes  and  the  broad  humorous  mouth 
by  the  time  the  tall,  gaunt  President,  in  the  abnormally 
tall  top  hat — the  fashion  of  the  day — took  to  driving  out 
to  Kalorama  in  the  August  evenings,  Mr.  Secretary 
Seward  dwarfing  at  his  side — to  take  the  air  and  look 
at  the  one  Western  brigade  of  all  the  commands  then 
being  moulded  by  General  McClellan  into  what  was  to 
become  the  grand  Army  of  the  Potomac.  While  at 
first  Massachusetts,  New  York  and  even  Pennsylvania 
had  been  represented  in  the  huge  command  assigned  to 
Fred  Benton's  General,  with  one  exception  all  Eastern 
regiments  were  transferred  to  other  divisions  as  more 
Badgers  arrived,  and  finally,  when  the  first  frosts  of 
October  had  turned  the  Virginia  shores  to  fire  and, 
strongly  entrenched,  the  Union  army  covered  the  long 


THE   FIRST   UNIFORM  49 

front  from  Alexandria  to  beyond  the  Chain  Bridge,  it 
was  as  a  brigade  of  four  strong,  stalwart  regiments, 
three  from  Wisconsin  and  one  from  Indiana,  not  an 
Eastern  or  Middle  State  represented  in  their  array,  that 
this  compact  command  was  designated,  of  all  others,  to 
encamp  upon  the  beautiful  Arlington  estate,  and  the 
General  and  his  staff  were  directed  to  occupy  as  head 
quarters  the  fine  old  mansion,  long  the  seat  of  a  famous 
family.  The  Badger  brigadier  moved  in  and  took  pos 
session  of  the  homestead  of  his  old-time  friend  and  as 
sociate  in  the  Corps  of  Engineers,  when  as  junior  offi 
cers  they  were  building  Fort  Monroe,  and  four  thousand 
men  of  the  West  pitched  their  white  tents  on  the  lands 
of  Virginia's  knightly  soldier — Robert  E.  Lee. 
4 


CHAPTER   IV 

WHAT  WAS   FOUND  AT   MANASSAS 

Dark  and  dreary  the  winter  of  the  first  year  of  the 
war  closed  in  on  the  camps  about  the  Capital.  Between 
the  Long  Bridge  and  the  heights  of  Arlington  lay  a  sea 
of  mud.  Dull  red,  the  Virginia  roads  were  gullied  de,ep 
by  the  wheels  of  cannon,  ambulance  and  army  wagon 
that  sank  now  to  the  very  hubs  in  sticky  mire,  and  time 
and  again  stalled  the  needed  supplies  almost  within  sight 
of  their  destination.  In  vain  the  darky  drivers  doubled 
their  teams  and  plied  lash  and  blasphemy.  Hour  after 
hour  the  order  would  ring  through  the  swarming  streets 
of  the  nearest  camp:  "Turn  out,  boys — more  wagons 
stuck  in  the  mud!  "  and  by  whole  companies,  regulars 
or  volunteers,  the  men  would  wade  knee-deep  to  the 
scene,  and  with  fence  rails  as  levers  and  drag  ropes  over 
the  brawny  shoulders,  prying,  pushing,  hauling  and 
shouting  they  would  "  yank  "  the  heavy  rolling  stock, 
one  by  one,  from  the  slough  of  their  despond  and  tide 
them  over  to  the  next  camp  beyond,  and  so,  from  slough 
to  slough,  pass  them  on  their  final  destination. 

But  while  the  roads  and  flats  were  quagmires,  up 
along  the  wooded  heights  the  ground  was  fairly  dry  and 
well  drained,  and  there  the  four  regiments,  three  of 


WHAT  WAS  FOUND  AT  MANASSAS  51 

which  had  drilled  through  August  on  the  broad,  level 
plateau  of  Kalorama,  and  much  of  the  early  fall  about 
Chain  Bridge,  were  now  kept  from  morn  till  night  bus 
ily  at  their  soldier  task.  The  General  held  that  the  less 
time  soldiers  had  to  kill  the  happier  and  heartier  they 
were,  and  determined  was  he  that  the  splendid  material 
confided  to  his  charge  should  be  moulded  into  equally 
splendid,  soldierly  shape — that  the  one  exclusively 
Western  brigade  of  the  now  well-organized  army  should 
be  second  to  none  in  point  of  instruction,  discipline  and 
efficiency.  To  this  end,  drills  by  squad,  company  and 
battalion,  all  three,  were  of  daily  occurrence,  followed 
by  dress  parade  at  sundown,  and  all  this  supplemented 
by  long,  searching  inspections  every  Sunday  morning. 
Presently,  too,  he  was  able,  by  a  mile  march  through 
the  woods,  to  reach  an  open  plain  out  toward  Ball's 
Cross  Roads,  and  there  have  brigade  evolutions  twice 
a  week.  Then  the  full  uniform  of  the  regulars  had  been 
drawn  for  the  entire  command,  the  Indiana  boys  shed 
ding  the  semi-Zouave  garb  of  gray  in  favor  of  the  army 
blue,  as  had  certain  of  their  Wisconsin  comrades  at 
Chain  Bridge  as  early  as  September.  One  Badger  regi 
ment,  the  Second,  whose  men  lorded  it  somewhat  over 
their  fellows  because  they  had  been  all  through  Bull 
Run  and,  despite  fairly  heavy  losses,  retired  in  good 
order — had  even  obtained  the  quaint,  stiff,  Kossuth  hat, 
looped  up  on  one  side  and  garnished  with  cord  and 
brasses  and  feathers — the  headgear  of  the  regulars  at 
the  time — and  were  dubbed  the  "  Black  Hats  "  by  envi- 


52  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

ous  comrades  of  other  commands.  Their  original  field 
officers  had  disappeared  somewhere  about  the  time  of 
that  initial  battle,  and  in  their  place  had  come  a  stocky 
little  black-bearded  West  Pointer  as  colonel,  with  a 
most  soldierly  ex-captain  of  State  militia  as  his  second, 
and  then  the  whole  brigade  had  to  be  fitted  out  with 
white  gloves,  and  some  nearby  regulars  were  detailed  to 
show  them  how  best  to  polish  their  belts  and  boxes,  and 
great  was  the  competition  among  the  four  regiments  to 
win  the  honor  of  headquarters  guard  and  orderlies. 

Then,  as  freezing  weather  set  in  with  December  and 
it  became  possible  for  carriages  to  come  bumping  and 
swaying  over  the  icy  boulders  and  ridges  into  which  the 
almost  liquid  mud  had  been  transformed,  many  generals 
of  rank,  and  statesmen  by  the  score,  and  even  the  Presi 
dent  himself,  began  paying  visits  to  Arlington  and  bring 
ing  curious  and  distinguished  foreigners  with  them,  and 
salutes  and  reviews  innumerable  became  the  vogue  in 
front  of  the  colonnaded  porch  of  that  stately  old  man 
sion.  Not  very  far  away  Phil.  Kearny's  fine  brigade  of 
Jersey  Blues  was  in  camp,  and  the  rivalry  between  these 
and  the  men  of  the  West  was  keen  and  continuous.  But 
Arlington  lay  nearer  the  city,  and  so  it  happened  that 
the  "  hoith  "  of  the  visitors,  as  their  one  "  exclusively 
Irish  "  company  put  it,  were  ever  to  be  found  at  the 
Badger  camps,  and  Fred  Benton  was  learning  how  much 
time  it  took — and  money — to  provide  entertainment  for 
the  men  of  mark  swarming  in  Washington  and  the  lines 
across  the  Potomac  that  first  winter  of  the  war. 


WHAT  WAS  FOUND  AT  MANASSAS       53 

But  there  was  one  visitor  who  cost  them  nothing,  who 
brought  them  cheer  and  delight,  and  who  could  not  come 
too  often.  He  came,  however,  only  twice  or  thrice.  He 
never  left  his  carriage,  but  sat  there  lounging  comfort 
ably  on  the  back  seat,  usually  with  Secretary  Seward 
by  his  side,  just  as  he  used  to  come  to  nearer  Kalorama, 
and,  after  he  had  chatted  with  the  General  a  while,  he 
would  drive  through  the  regimental  camps  to  receive 
the  tumultuous  greeting  of  "  the  boys,"  to  wave  his  hat 
and  smile  at  them,  and  sometimes,  when  they  crowded 
about  him,  to  stop  and  shake  hands  with  the  nearmost, 
and  once  or  twice  to  tell  some  whimsical  story  that 
would  set  his  hearers  shouting  with  glee.  The  President 
seemed  to  find  himself  thoroughly  at  home  among  those 
lads  from  the  far  West. 

But  if  the  rugged  features  beamed  with  kindliness  and 
sympathy  early  in  the  December  days  and  had  ever  a 
smile  in  return  for  the  greeting  of  the  shouting  boys  in 
blue,  senior  officers  who  best  knew  him  became  aware 
of  a  growing  anxiety  and  impatience  on  his  part  ere  the 
joyous  Christmastide  came  in,  and  the  crowded  camps 
were  jubilant  with  feasting  and  good  cheer.  The  be 
loved  little  commanding  general  had  been  taken  ill  of 
a  fever  and  confined  to  his  bed.  The  President  to  whom 
he  owed  his  appointment  had  as  yet  no  information  as 
to  that  general's  plans,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the 
two  or  three  men  in  his,  McClellan's,  confidence  were 
strangers  at  the  White  House  and  the  departments. 
When,  in  his  anxiety  and  sympathy,  the  President  called 


54  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

in  person  at  the  invalid's  house,  he  was  neither  asked 
to  the  bedside  nor  given  information  as  to  when  the 
general  would  be  able  to  resume  duty.  As  a  conse 
quence  the  President  had  to  turn  to  other  sources,  and 
Fred's  division  commander,  McDowell,  was  the  first  he 
sought.  He  was  forever  asking  questions  as  to  the  con 
dition  of  the  roads,  the  possibility  of  moving  guns  and 
trains,  and  showing  not  a  little  eagerness  when  told  that 
through  January,  at  least,  they  ought  to  be  hard  and 
firm,  but  rough.  Then  they  who  read  the  leading  papers 
of  the  great  North  could  not  but  note  the  clamor  for  an 
immediate  advance  upon  the  enemy,  a  sweeping,  over 
whelming  victory  over  "  the  insolent  foe  "  that  should 
wipe  out  the  memory  of  Bull  Run  and  restore  confidence 
and  hope  throughout  the  loyal  States.  It  was  pointed 
out  that  under  the  vigilant  eye  of  that  famous  organizer, 
the  army  had  for  five  long  months  been  drilling,  drilling, 
drilling  until  in  point  of  precision  in  the  evolutions  of  the 
battalion  or  brigade,  regulars  and  volunteers  could 
hardly  be  distinguished  one  from  the  other — that  the 
men  were  presumably  hardened  and  strengthened — that 
they  were  amply  nourished,  armed,  uniformed  and 
equipped,  and  that  now,  barring  the  possibility  of  soft 
weather,  there  was  no  earthly  reason  why  the  army 
should  not  advance  and  deal  to  the  triumphant  Con 
federates,  boastfully  awaiting  them  behind  their  for 
midable  field  works,  a  decisive  and  stunning  blow  at  the 
very  scene  of  our  recent  humiliation  on  the  plains  of 
Manassas  and  along  the  wooded  banks  of  Bull  Run. 


WHAT  WAS   FOUND  AT  MANASSAS  55 

Day  after  day  throughout  the  autumn  had  "  Little 
Mac,"  followed  by  a  brilliant  retinue,  ridden  from  camp 
to  camp,  inspecting,  reviewing,  commanding,  criticising, 
and,  long  ago  as  mid  September,  after  the  spirited  skir 
mish  near  Lewinsville,  he  had  thrilled  the  listening  thou 
sands,  Fred  and  his  Badger  comrades  among  them,  by 
the  ringing  words  in  which  he  had  assured  them  the 
war  should  be  short,  sharp  and  decisive,  and  for  hours 
the  bands  had  pealed  exultant  music,  "  the  boys " 
cheered  themselves  hoarse  in  glorification  over  his  stir 
ring  declaration:  "We  have  had  our  last  defeat — we 
have  made  our  last  retreat,"  and  the  mingled  appeal  and 
pledge  that  followed:  "You  stand  by  me  and  I'll  stand 
by  you."  Stand  by  him?  Stand  by  Little  Mac?  Such 
was  the  faith  and  love  and  devotion  that  burned  for  him 
throughout  that  magnificent  command  that  as  the  late 
autumn  rolled  by  and  the  promise  of  speedy  action  flut 
tered  from  camp  to  camp  there  was  hardly  an  officer 
or  man  from  division  commanders  down  to  drummer 
boys  that  would  not  willingly  have  died  for  him!  Never 
in  the  days  of  his  most  splendid  achievement,  sur 
rounded  by  the  marshals  of  his  empire  and  supported 
by  the  Imperial  Guard,  did  Napoleon  himself  receive 
from  the  hearts  of  his  soldiers  a  love  more  spontaneous, 
from  their  lips  a  greeting  more  thrilling,  than  did  George 
McClellan  as  he  rode  the  lines  of  the  new-born  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  practically  his  own  creation,  for  it  was  but 
raw  material  when  confided  to  his  hands. 

And  yet,  save  for  more  drills,  more  grand  reviews 


56  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

and  ceremonies,  and  in  spite  of  the  clamor  of  the  nation, 
the  press  and  the  Government,  it  moved  not,  and  the 
fine  weather  of  December  was  gone  and  January  came, 
and  with  it  the  fogs  and  soft  skies  and  seas  of  mud 
again,  and  stories  went  from  fire  to  fire  to  the  effect 
that  the  President  and  the  people  had  become  irritated 
at  the  long  delay,  and  that  Little  Mac  was  being  urged 
and  importuned  and  even  blamed.  "  Let  Little  Mac 
alone,"  said  the  boys.  "  He  knows  what  he's  about"; 
for  even  in  their  impatience  nothing  could  shake  their 
loyalty. 

At  last,  as  is  well  remembered,  the  President,  in  the 
exercise  of  his  prerogative,  took  the  law  into  his  hands 
and  issued  his  first  order  directing  the  advance  of  an 
army  in  the  field.  And  at  last,  its  corps  organization 
completed  now — though  with  generals  not  of  McClel- 
lan's  choice — to  the  glorious  music  of  the  innumerable 
bands,  in  splendid  weather  and  in  splendid  spirits,  the 
long  blue  columns  filed  out  from  the  shelter  of  the  cir 
cling  fortifications  and  took  the  road  to  Centreville. 

Promotion  had  by  this  time  carried  Fred's  division 
commander  to  the  head  of  a  corps  and  his  brigade  com 
mander  to  the  head  of  the  fine  division,  in  which  until 
now  the  wild  Westerners  had  been  numbered  as  the 
First  Brigade.  Now  they  became  the  Third,  and  were 
both  astonished  and  disgusted  to  find  that  their  numeri 
cal  designation  depended  not,  as  they  were  inclined  to 
say,  on  their  soldierly  superiority,  but  upon  the  relative 
rank  of  the  brigade  commander.  It  galled  them,  to  tell 


WHAT   WAS   FOUND   AT   MAN  ASS  AS  57 

the  truth,  to  find  that  the  promotion  to  division  rank  of 
the  West  Point  soldier  who  had  organized,  drilled  and 
taught  them  from  the  start,  involved  a  corresponding 
setback  for  themselves.  Some  Badgers  took  the  matter 
so  much  to  heart  as  to  declare  that  the  General  should 
have  declined  promotion — let  somebody  else  step  up  to 
the  command  of  the  division  rather  than  see  his  old 
comrades  moved  from  the  right  to  the  left  of  the  line, 
from  front  to  rear  of  the  column.  In  vain  were  they 
assured  that  it  really  made  no  earthly  difference,  that 
the  brigade  would  take  turns  at  the  head  of  the  column 
on  the  march,  and,  as  for  the  line  of  battle,  they  would 
get  Just  as  much  fighting  on  the  left  as  on  the  right.  It 
is  strange  to  see  what  little  things  will  start  a  big  sensa 
tion  among  young  soldiers.  Badger  and  Hoosier  the 
brigade  had  a  mild  case  of  sulks  when  it  found  that  its 
comrade  commands,  made  up  of  New  Yorkers  and 
Pennsylvanians,  each  headed  by  a  West  Point  general, 
were  now  its  seniors  in  soldier  rank,  because  the  best 
they  could  boast  for  brigade  headquarters  was  one  of 
their  own  colonels.  Senators  and  representatives,  egged 
on  by  letters  from  "  the  boys,"  flocked  to  the  White 
House  and  the  War  Department  to  "  see  about  this  " 
and  have  it  rectified,  and  came  away  reconciled  from 
the  one  and  ruffled  from  the  other.  The  new  war  secre 
tary  was  as  like  Cameron  as  cactus  is  like  the  cowslip. 
Even  then,  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  he  was  all  spines 
and  bristles.  The  patient  President,  however — was 
ever  man  more  patient? — listened  without  interruption 


58  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

to  the  somewhat  vehement  words  of  the  Badger  states 
men  who  had  assured  the  boys,  "  Black  Hats  "  and  all, 
that  they  would  see  them  righted.  With  downcast  eyes, 
his  shaggy  head  on  one  side,  his  long,  bony,  muscular 
hands  extended,  finger-tips  touching  over  the  right  knee, 
his  wide  mouth  twitching  sometimes  into  a  semblance 
of  whimsical  smile,  Mr.  Lincoln  waited  until  his  callers 
had  finished,  then  passed  a  hand  through  his  bristling 
hair,  then  clasped  both  hands  behind  his  big  black- 
brown  head  and  threw  it  upon  their  support  and  gazed 
aloft  as  though  for  inspiration,  then  straightened  up,  and 
with  the  sunshine  breaking  through  the  sombre  lines 
about  his  deep-set  eyes,  began: — 

"  As  I  understand  it,"  said  he,  "  the  boys  want  to  go 
back  to  head  the  procession  as  they  did  when  McDowell 
commanded  the  division.  Now,  to  do  that  I've  either 
got  to  pull  their  own  general  down  a  peg — set  him  back 
from  the  head  of  the  three  brigades  to  that  of  one — or 
else  find  some  brigadier  who  ranks  such  fellows  as 
Augur  and  Patrick,  take  him  away  from  the  brigade  he 
has  been  licking  into  shape,  and  set  him  over  our  friends 
and  neighbors  from  Wisconsin  and  Indiana — that,  too, 
gentlemen,"  and  here  he  reached  out  and  picked  up  a 
bundle  of  papers  from  his  desk,  "  when  at  least  a  dozen 
smart  young  West  Point  captains  and  all  the  four 
colonels  are  being  pushed  by  their  friends  as  the  right 
man  to  succeed  to  the  command  of  that  particular  bri 
gade.  You  see  they  appreciate  the  stuff  our  Western 
lads  are  made  of.  Now  I  can't  reduce  your  Western 


WHAT   WAS   FOUND   AT   MANASSAS  59 

general,  and  the  boys  wouldn't  thank  me  for  sending 
them  a  total  stranger.  You  just  say  to  them  for  me 
that  I'll  send  them  a  brigadier  presently  who'll  see  to  it 
that  they  get  everything  in  creation  they  are  entitled  to, 
righting,  feasting  or  fun,  and  I'll  warrant  they'll  be  satis 
fied." 

"  You  wouldn't  care  to  give  us  his  name,  Mr.  Presi 
dent,"  suggested  the  ambassadors. 

"  I  shouldn't  care,  if  I  knew  for  certain — but  Stanton 
might.  You  see  we've  got  a  new  housekeeper  in  the 
War  Department  now,  and  we  mustn't  do  anything 
without  consulting  that  authority."  And  with  that  he 
rose  and  cordially  clasped  the  hands  of  his  Western  visi 
tors,  and  the  gentlemen  had  to  go,  convinced,  if  not 
satisfied. 

As  for  the  brigade,  it  strode  away  most  vigorously  on 
the  march  to  Manassas,  was  one  of  the  first  to  reach  the 
storied  stream  that  wound  along  at  the  foot  of  the 
heights,  was  one  of  the  most  disgusted  to  find  the  "  im 
pregnable  system  of  powerful  works "  held  only  by 
Quaker  guns  and  abandoned  impedimenta,  but  to  Fred 
Benton  and  his  general  there  came  a  lively  sensation  in 
the  report  from  the  lips  of  the  bearded  colonel  of  the 
"  Black  Hats."  His  men  had  stumbled  on  a  lot  of  letters 
and  luggage  unaccountably  left  behind  even  in  the  calm 
deliberation  of  the  Confederate  withdrawal — the  prop 
erty  of  certain  officers  of  the  nth  Alabama. 


CHAPTER  V 

A   STARTLING   RESEMBLANCE 

Most  skillfully  and  leisurely  had  "  Joe  "  Johnston,  the 
Confederate  commander,  withdrawn  his  army  to  the  line 
of  the  upper  Rappahannock.  Placidly  had  he  waited, 
even  after  being  furnished  with  copies  of  the  President's 
war  order  calling  for  an  advance  on  February  22d,  until 
it  should  be  apparent  that  McClellan  was  beginning  to 
break  camp,  and  when  the  first  of  the  Union  troops, 
some  cavalry  under  Averell,  came  twinkling  into  view 
along  the  heights  of  Centreville,  the  last  of  Johnston's 
fifty  thousand — all  he  had  to  face  McClellan's  field 
force  of  probably  double  that  number — was  reluctantly 
riding  away  from  Manassas.  More  for  exercise  and  the 
name  of  the  thing  than  with  the  idea  of  a  fight,  "  Little 
Mac  "  had  sent  his  big  corps  forward  to  the  scene  of 
McDowell's  defeat  of  the  previous  July,  and  for  a  whole 
day  Fred  Benton  and  his  Badger  comrades  wandered 
about  the  Junction,  the  Henry  house,  the  Warrenton 
pike  and  the  old  Stone  Bridge,  gathering  relics  and  in 
formation,  and  it  was  while  so  occupied  that  a  squad  of 
busy  searchers  had  stumbled  on  two  or  three  boxes  in 
an  abandoned  hut — boxes  that  when  burst  open  were 
found  to  contain  letters,  papers  and  clothing  belonging 


A  STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE  61 

to  a  prominent  captain  of  the  nth  Alabama,  and,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  to  First  Lieutenant  Paul  Ladue. 

"  Now,  what  have  you  got  to  say?  "  demanded  officers 
of  the  Montgomery  Guard,  a  home  company,  as  one  of 
them  shook  under  Benton's  paling  face  an  open  letter 
addressed  to  Ladue.  "Will  you  own  up  that  he  was 
a  reb  all  the  time?" 

"  No,"  said  Benton,  sadly.  "  He  would  have  re 
mained  there  taking  care  of  his  old  father  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  mob,  and  more  than  one  of  your  men  was 
in  it,  Captain  O'Kane,  as  you  very  well  know." 

"  I'm  prayin'  my  boys  can  meet  him,  that's  all,"  said 
the  Hibernian  leader. 

"  Some  of  them  will  be  past  praying  for  when  they 
do,"  returned  Benton  hotly,  for  his  heart  was  sore,  and 
a  new  anxiety  had  come  to  him.  What  if  some  of  the 
letters  should  prove  to  be  Elinor's — his  sister's? 

For  Benton  knew  that  at  last  a  letter  had  reached  her 
from  Paul  Ladue,  forwarded  under  cover  from  St. 
Louis.  She  had  frankly  written  and  told  him  of  its  com 
ing — told  him,  moreover,  that  she  had  taken  it  to  their 
father  and  asked  him  to  read  it,  and,  so  far  from  show 
ing  anger  or  disapprobation,  the  Squire  had  stood  irres 
olute  a  moment  and  then  taken  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  and  returned  her  the  letter,  unread.  "  But 
you  must  know  what  he  says,"  wrote  Elinor  to  her 
brother,  "  for  he  speaks  so  beautifully  of  you  and  the 
regard  in  which  he  holds  you  and  the  regret  he  feels  that 
writing  either  to  you  or  to  me  is  impossible,  because  it 


62  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

might  injure  us — you  with  your  superiors  and  comrades, 
me  with  the  neighbors  here.  Yet  every  fortnight,  now 
that  poor  Mrs.  Ladue  is  too  feeble  to  leave  her  bed  and 
Mr.  Ladue  too  apathetic  to  write,  I  write  for  them  both 
— sending  the  letter  under  cover  to  a  firm  in  St.  Louis, 
and  every  month  there  has  come  something  through  the 
same  channel  for  his  father  or  mother.  My  letter  came 
in  hers." 

It  was  a  manful  letter.  The  poor  lad  seemed  to  real 
ize  that  they  were  almost  hopelessly  parted  now  and 
that  he  had  no  right  whatsoever  to  stand  between  her 
and  the  possibility  of  a  happier  fortune.  A  portion  of 
his  letter  read  as  follows: 


"  Mother's  few  lines,  written  so  slowly  and  painfully,  have  told  me 
what  an  angel  of  goodness  you  have  been  to  her,  to  my  father  and  the 
children.  God  only  knows  how  grateful  I  am  to  you — you  whom  I  dare 
not  hope  ever  to  see  again.  The  die  was  cast  when  they  drove  me 
away,  dear  Elinor,  and  now  my  fate  is  bound  irrevocably  with  that  of 
my  oldest  friends,  my  father's  people  and  my  State.  I  do  not  seek  to 
further  explain  or  defend  my  action.  It  is  done. 

"  But  if  the  idea  still  prevail  that  within  a  few  months  the  North  can 
crush  with  overwhelming  force  these  soldiers  of  the  South,  tell  your 
people  it  is  impossible.  Every  family  is  represented  in  the  field.  Our 
best  and  bravest  are  all  in  arms,  and  it  will  take  years  to  kill  us  off. 
Meantime,  what  may  not  we  be  doing  ?  Why,  Elinor,  one  of  our  most 
distinguished  officers  in  the  regiment  tells  me  he  is  own  cousin  to  Fred's 
general — that  he  owed  his  appointment  as  a  cadet  long  years  ago  to  the 
influence  the  general  brought  to  bear.  You  see  we  are  all  in  it,  every 
family,  every  name.  We  have  no  dissenters  as  you  have.  We  are  a 
united,  enthusiastic  people  who  mean  to  be  utterly  free. 

"And  so — and  this  is  the  hardest  thing  I  ever  thought  to  have  to 
write — it  has  to  be  good-by.  Try  to  think  kindly,  forgivingly  of  me  if 
you  can.  I  cannot,  and  I  have  no  right  to,  tell  you  what  this  costs  me. 
May  God  in  heaven  bless  and  guard  you — always." 


A   STARTLING   RESEMBLANCE  63 

Early  in  December  had  that  letter  reached  her,  and 
the  copy  been  sent  to  Fred.  No  wonder  she  wished 
her  father  to  see  it,  thought  he.  It  showed  Paul  Ladue 
in  so  different  a  light.  Already,  however,  had  the  Squire 
begun  to  realize  that  there  was  far  more  principle  in 
that  fragile-looking  dreamer  than  among  his  defamers, 
and  hot  words  had  passed  between  the  senior  and  junior 
partner  again,  leading  late  in  the  fall  to  open  rupture 
and  a  withdrawal  of  McKinnon  from  the  firm. 

Nor  did  it  surprise  either  Benton  or  Gray  to  find 
within  the  month  that  McKinnon  had  allied  himself  with 
their  keenest  rivals — that  those  astute  practitioners,  in 
deed,  had  sought  the  allegiance  of  the  younger  man, 
this,  too,  in  spite  of  the  cloud  that  had  hung  over  his 
good  name  ever  since  the  postmaster's  published  state 
ment.  Eight  months  had  passed  and  the  matter  of  that 
purloined  letter  was  as  deep  a  mystery  as  ever,  and  now 
here  at  Manassas,  and,  of  all  others,  to  the  men  of  the 
Badger  Brigade  had  come  confirmation  of  the  state 
ment  insisted  on  by  McKenna  and  denounced  as  a  lie 
and  forgery  by  Paul  Ladue — that  the  fiery  young  South 
erner  was  actually  an  officer  of  the  nth  Alabama.  The 
absent  are  ever  in  the  wrong,  and  with  sad  heart  poor 
Fred  listened  to  the  chorus  of  denunciation  that  fol 
lowed  the  discovery.  He  knew  that  within  forty-eight 
hours  a  dozen  letters  would  be  flying  homeward  with  the 
exciting  news,  so  what  was  the  use  of  attempting  to  sup 
press  it? 

By  his  general's  advice  he  wrote  to  his  father  forth- 


64  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

with,  telling  him  of  the  finding  of  letters  and  luggage 
belonging  to  Paul,  the  letters  all  tending  to  show  that  he 
was  now  an  officer  of  the  nth  Alabama — but  that  he, 
Fred,  still  believed  Paul's  statement  to  the  effect  that  he 
had  accepted  neither  commission  nor  appointment  up  to 
the  time  he  was  banished  from  his  Northern  home. 
The  General  added  some  words  of  his  own,  and  then  as 
a  courier  was  to  start  for  Washington  from  McDowell's 
headquarters  that  evening,  Fred  was  given  leave  to  ride 
thither,  and  thereby  assure  their  letters  going  ahead  of 
the  others. 

It  was  an  unusually  bright  and  beautiful  afternoon, 
as,  followed  by  his  orderly,  the  young  officer  took  the 
Sudley  Springs  road  and  trotted  away  northward  in 
search  of  the  corps  commander.  Already  some  of  the 
comrade  divisions,  strung  out  along  the  Warrenton 
Turnpike,  had  been  faced  about  and  started  back  for 
Fairfax  Courthouse,  and  it  was  apparent  that  beyond 
Manassas,  in  search  of  Johnston,  McClellan  did  not  care 
to  go.  Averell's  cavalry,  pushing  out  southwestward, 
had  spent  a  day  of  two  in  scouting  without  seeing  any 
thing  worthy  of  mention,  and  then  had  drifted  back  to 
Manassas  for  forage  and  supplies. 

Here  and  there  through  the  wooded,  winding  lanes 
that  crossed  his  path,  Fred  caught  sight  of  little  squads 
of  explorers  from  his  own  division,  but  these  became 
less  numerous  as  he  came  in  view  of  the  now  famous 
Henry  house  and  the  cleared  fields  up  the  slope  to  the 
right.  It  lacked  still  two  hours  to  sunset.  He  was 


A   STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE  65 

now  barely  a  mile  from  the  Warrenton  pike  and,  with 
abundant  time  to  spare,  he  decided  to  ride  to  the  crest 
and  have  a  look  at  the  battle  ground  of  the  previous 
year.  War  with  us  had  not  then  become  the  hell  de 
scribed  by  Sherman  two  years  later.  We  still  handled 
both  the  enemy  and  the  musket  with  gloves.  Each  in 
his  turn,  McDowell  and  McClellan  had  declared  that  the 
houses  of  home-keeping  Virginians  should  be  held  in 
violate,  that  property  of  every  kind  should  be  protected. 
Even  when,  of  its  own  motion,  it  sought  the  shelter  of 
the  Union  camps,  the  law  demanded  its  restoration  to 
the  master  coming  with  whip  and  hounds  in  search  of 
his  chattel.  Safeguards  were  still  posted  at  the  gates 
and  doorways  and  over  the  pens,  roosts,  smoke-houses 
and  cellars  of  the  complacent  households  whose  sires, 
sons,  and  brothers  were  doubtless  with  the  gray-clad 
army  across  the  Rappahannock.  Benton  could  see  the 
glint  of  the  sentry's  bayonet  among  the  tall  shrubbery 
in  front  of  the  Henry  house,  and  a  corporal,  with  a 
squad  of  blue-coated  guardians,  lounged  at  the  gateway 
ahead  of  him.  But  other  forces,  less  heedful  of  per 
sonal  rights,  perhaps,  had  been  there  before,  and  the 
fence  was  but  a  ruin  through  one  of  whose  numerous 
gaps  he  sent  his  powerful  bay  and  then  jogged  on  up 
the  hillside.  Accustomed  to  the  saddle  from  early  boy 
hood,  Fred  was  a  horseman  whose  easy  mastery  over 
the  most  intractable  "  mounts  "  submitted  to  him  for 
subjugation  had  won  the  admiration  of  such  experts  as 
Bayard  and  Custer,  young  officers  of  the  regular  cavalry 
5 


66  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

frequently  visiting  division  headquarters  during  the 
winter.  A  keen  observer,  he  had  studied  the  carriage 
and  manners  of  the  professional  soldiers  with  whom  his 
staff  duties  so  frequently  brought  him  in  contact.  Mc- 
Clellan,  McDowell  and  Fitz  John  Porter  were  his  mod 
els  of  soldierly  bearing,  dignity  and  deportment,  Phil 
Kearny  his  ideal  of  the  fyreux  chevalier,  while  among 
the  few  cavalry  commands  and  the  famous  light  bat 
teries  of  the  regulars  rode  younger  soldiers  whom  he 
never  tired  of  watching,  Gibbon  with  the  guns  of  his  old 
brigade,  Griffin  with  the  West  Point  battery.  Weed, 
Ayres,  Ames  (still  crippled  and  scarred  from  First  Bull 
Run),  Kirby  and  Hazlett  and  a  dozen  jaunty  boy  gun 
ners,  while  Bayard,  "  Joe  "  Taylor,  Audenried,  Sanders 
and  McQuesten,  and  the  dashing  troopers  of  their  set 
were  ever  the  objects  of  our  young  Badger's  scrutiny. 
He  had  profited  by  his  observation  and  study,  and  no 
aide-de-camp  in  McDowell's  big  corps,  as  the  spring 
came  on,  better  adorned  his  position  than  did  the  tall, 
sinewy  Westerner,  not  yet  twenty-two. 

Small  wonder  was  it,  therefore,  that  the  few  sentries 
scattered  about  the  house  and  gardens  gazed  admiringly 
at  the  slender,  soldierly  figure  in  the  trim-fitting,  well- 
cut  uniform.  Every  detail  of  his  equipment — horse  fur 
niture,  boots,  spurs,  belt,  sash,  sword  and  gauntlets, 
holsters  and  field-glasses — was  all  of  the  best  that  ex 
perts  could  choose  or  money  buy,  for  the  Squire  had 
not  stinted  his  only  son.  A  stirring  picture  they  made 
as  they  halted  on  the  heights,  horse  and  rider  silhouetted 


In  front  of  him   stood  the  old 
Virginia  homestead. — Page  67. 


A  STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE  67 

against  the  sky,  and  a  grand  picture  of  Virginia  land 
scape — a  beautiful  picture  when  the  summer  clothed 
the  forest  in  verdure— was  that  outspread  before  him 
as  he  gazed  away  northwestward.  Spanning  the  hori 
zon  to  his  left,  eight  miles  or  so  away,  the  long,  low 
range  of  the  Bull  Run  mountains — the  easternmost 
parallel  of  the  Blue  Ridge — stretched  from  near  War- 
renton  until  lost  in  the  hazy  distance  toward  the  Poto 
mac  opposite  Point  of  Rocks.  North  and  westward  the 
ground  fell  away  before  him,  criss-crossed  with  farm 
fences  and  country  roads,  dotted  with  little  hamlets  and 
darkened  here  and  there  by  copse  and  grove  and  forest 
• — while,  beyond  the  road  by  which  he  came  a  barren 
crest,  bursting  out  above  abrupt,  sloping  sides,  fringed 
with  scrub  oak  and  cedar,  partially  hid  the  view  of  tan 
gled  woodland  that  seemed  to  spread  for  several  miles 
to  and  beyond  the  twisting  line  of  the  railway  toward 
that  low  notch  in  the  Bull  Run  range — the  height 
known  as  Bald  Hill,  and  a  vital  point  in  the  summer 
months  soon  to  come — the  notch,  destined  to  be  the 
gateway  through  which  the  Southern  hosts  were  so 
soon  to  swarm  upon  our  rear, — already  known  as  Thor 
oughfare  Gap.  In  front  of  him,  a  hundred  yards  away, 
stood  the  old  Virginia  homestead  about  whose  walls  the 
battle  raged  that  hot  July  Sunday  of  the  year  gone  by — 
beneath  whose  shattered  roof  the  poor  mother  died, 
stricken  by  whirring  fragments  of  shell.  Riding  thither 
and  skirting  the  enclosure,  he  passed  on,  unchecked  by 
silent,  saluting  guardsmen,  and  as  he  rode  something 


68  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

prompted  him  to  glance  toward  the  house  again,  and 
there  at  a  jagged  shell  hole,  just  under  the  eaves,  peer 
ing  at  him  between  the  shattered  clapboards,  his  keen 
eyes  caught  an  instant  glimpse  of  a  haggard  face — a 
face  that,  at  his  glance,  was  instantly  withdrawn. 

Three  minutes  later,  out  on  the  northward  edge  of 
the  plateau,  he  unslung  his  field-glass  to  study  the  coun 
try  outspread  before  him  and  stretching  away  in  alter 
nate  field  and  forest,  to  the  dim,  white  walls  of  Vienna. 
Just  beneath  him,  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  and  across  the 
shining  ribbon  of  a  little  stream  and  the  broader,  dull 
red  gash  of  the  Warrenton  pike,  stood  the  stone  house 
— the  historic  stone  house  of  the  by-gone  year;  just  to 
his  right,  at  the  edge  of  the  plateau,  the  relics  of  the 
Robinson  homestead,  and  there  in  the  low  ground  of  the 
middle  distance,  the  wooded  banks  of  the  winding  Bull 
Run.  Still  thinking  of  the  face  at  that  jagged  hole, 
some  sudden  impulse  prompted  him  to  quickly  turn  in 
saddle,  to  bring  the  powerful  lenses  to  bear  on  a  little 
window  under  the  peak  of  the  roof  of  the  Henry  house, 
and  there  was  the  face  again,  furtive,  frightened,  he 
could  swear,  and  again,  instantly  it  popped  out  of  sight. 

But  his  heart  had  given  leap  as  sudden  as  the  sight, 
and  now  was  hammering  within  his  breast.  Replacing 
the  glass  in  its  leathern  case,  he  whirled  his  horse  to  the 
leftabout  and  rode  straight  for  the  rear  entrance  to  the 
garden.  Another  moment  and,  dismounting,  he  rapped 
loudly  at  the  door.  A  tall,  slim  man  of  middle  age  ap- 


A  STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE  69 

peared  and,  with  grave  courtesy  but  without  welcome 
in  his  tones,  asked  the  purpose  of  his  coming. 

"  I  am  Lieutenant  Benton,  sir — aide-de-camp  to  the 
general  commanding  the  division  guarding  your  prem 
ises,  and  I  have  a  question  to  ask  as  to  the  occupant 
of  your  garret." 

Instantly  there  came  from  just  within  the  doorway 
to  an  inner  room  a  half  stifled  cry — a  gasp — a  rustle  of 
skirts.  The  tall  man  turned  thither  a  quick  glance  of 
warning  and  rebuke,  then,  visibly  paler,  again  faced  his 
caller. 

"  You  see  the  condition  of  my  house,  sir.  It  is  a 
mere  wreck  as  the  result  of  the  cannonading  it  sustained 
— from  both  sides — in  the  battle  of  last  July.  We  have 
been  trying  to  make  it  habitable,  and  have  given  succor 
here  to  sick  neighbors  or  friends  who  had  no  roofs  left 
to  cover  them — only  to  the  sick,  sir." 

Benton  paused,  irresolute.  The  tall  Virginian  spoke 
with  so  much  dignity  and  sadness.  The  house,  as  he 
said,  seemed  barely  habitable.  The  garret,  especially, 
was  little  better  than  a  ruin.  The  face  at  that  peep 
hole  on  the  eastern  side  and  at  the  little  window  away 
up  under  the  gable  eaves  at  the  north  might  well  have 
been  that  of  some  of  the  household,  yet,  even  at  the  dis 
tance  and  at  the  first  glance  there  was  a  something 
about  it  that  caused  his  heart  that  leap  of  sudden  joy 
and  that  kept  it  bounding  still.  And  then — if  it  should 
be  true — if  what  he  hoped — and  feared — were  really  so, 
what  would  be  his  duty  to  his  general — to  his  country? 


70  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

"  Against  all  enemies  or  opposers  whomsoever  " — the 
words  of  his  oath  of  office  came  ringing  to  his  ears — 
blazing  before  his  ey^es  in  letters  of  fire — and  without 
further  ado  he  briefly  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  intrude,  sir, 
but  what  I  saw  at  that  window  makes  it  necessary  that 
I  should  see  the  garret.  Will  you  lead  the  way?  " 

For  a  moment  the  Virginian  hesitated,  then,  lifting 
his  hat  stepped  backward  to  admit  his  unwelcome  visi 
tor.  "  We  are  in  your  hands,  sir,"  was  his  half  reproach 
ful  answer.  "  Enter  if  you  will." 

But  then  came  sudden  barrier  to  his  further  progress. 
Quickly  there  stepped  into  view  and  stood  confronting 
him  at  the  doorway  to  the  inner  room  the  tall  and  slen 
der  form  of  a  young  girl.  Eighteen  she  might  have 
been,  not  more,  though  anxiety  and  grief  had  paled  her 
pretty  face.  But  her  great,  glorious  dark  eyes  were  all 
ablaze  as  she  folded  her  slender  arms  and  looking  the 
young  officer  squarely  in  the  face,  said,  "  This  is  my 
room,  sir,  and  not  subject  to  search." 

Slowly  Fred  Benton's  gauntleted  hand  went  up  to  the 
visor  and  the  natty  forage  cap  was  uplifted.  The  kindly, 
yet  kindling  eyes  of  blue  gazed  one  moment  into  the 
unflinching,  unmelting  eyes  of  deep,  deep  brown,  then 
turning  deliberately  the  aide-de-camp  inquired: — 

"  Is  there  another  way  to  reach  the  stair?  " 

"  Only  by  going  round  the  house  to  the  other  door, 
sir,"  was  the  Virginian's  reply;  whereat  Mr.  Benton, 
with  bow  as  ceremonious  as  though  he,  too,  hailed  from 
the  shores  of  the  James,  the  York  or  Rappahannock 


A  STARTLING  RESEMBLANCE  71 

instead  of  the  bustling,  pragmatical  Northwest,  looked 
once  more  long  at  the  lovely  oval  face,  now  surely 
blushing  before  him,  then  turned  and  left  the  room. 

Three  minutes  later  he  had  searched  both  garret  and 
the  upper  story  and  not  a  sign  of  occupant  was  there. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  STRANGER  WITHIN  OUR  GATES 

When  Lieutenant  Benton  rode  away  from  the  Henry 
house  that  sunshiny  evening  the  long  shadows  were 
slanting  across  the  levels,  and  the  dazzling  shield  of  the 
day  god  was  well  down  at  the  west.  Shadows,  too,  had 
fallen  on  the  blithe  spirits  that  had  been  his  in  the  ear 
lier  hours.  Surely  he  could  not  have  been  mistaken 
about  that  face,  thinned  and  haggard  as  though  from 
recent  illness,  and  livid  with  the  consciousness  of  im 
minent  peril;  and,  if  he  had  not  been  mistaken,  just  as 
surely  he  had  been  tricked — tricked  in  all  probability  by 
that  defiant  and  yet  most  attractive  Virginia  girl.  Vir 
ginian  he  believed  her  to  be,  partly  because  her  accent 
so  resembled  that  of  the  very  palpable  Virginian,  the 
owner,  and  partly  because  that  courteous  and  well-man 
nered  native,  in  answer  to  somewhat  imperious  ques 
tion,  said  "  The  young  lady,  suh,  is  a  daughter  of  old 
Doctor  Chilton,  of  Charlottesville." 

To  the  very  natural  question  that  followed,  "What 
was  Miss  Chilton  doing  there?  "  the  Virginian  had  an 
swer  equally  prompt  and  dignified.  Her  brother,  a  lieu 
tenant  in  Stuart's  cavalry,  had  been  accidentally  shot  by 
the  pickets  the  dark  night  of  March  4th,  had  been  left 


A   STRANGER  WITHIN   OUR   GATES  73 

with  an  attendant  at  the  Thornton  place  across  Bull 
Run,  too  badly  wounded  to  be  moved  when  Johnston 
fell  back  from  Manassas,  had  bribed  his  friends  to  send 
him  away  in  a  cart  when  he  heard  of  the  Union  advance, 
and  cart  and  contents  had  been  run  down  by  other 
troopers — Averell's — before  they  reached  Manassas. 
The  wounded  boy,  delirious  with  fever,  was  even  now 
lying  in  the  room  his  sister  guarded.  Dr.  Alexander, 
of  General  McDowell's  staff,  had  twice  been  to  see  him. 
Dr.  Chilton  had  come,  bringing  his  devoted  daughter, 
and  then  gone  on  to  Fairfax  in  hopes  of  obtaining  from 
General  McClellan  permission  to  take  his  son  on  parole, 
by  slow  stages,  to  Charlottesville,  and  Miss  Chilton 
meanwhile  remained  there  under  what  was  left  of  a 
roof,  and  what  he,  Mr.  Henry,  could  offer  by  way  of 
care  and  protection.  Indeed,  there  could  be  little  doubt 
of  the  presence  of  a  sorely  sick  man,  for  fevered  moans, 
mingling  with  the  gentle,  soothing,  appealing  words  of 
the  fair  nurse  could  be  heard  in  the  adjoining  room. 
Moreover,  brief  conference  with  the  guard  without  did 
much  to  confirm  Benton  in  his  faith  in  the  truth  of  the 
statement.  They  assured  him  that  if  anybody  else  was 
harbored  or  hidden  there  he  could  not  escape,  for  they 
were  ordered  to  prevent  the  occupants  from  leaving,  as 
well  as  to  protect  the  premises  from  harm. 

At  five  o'clock,  therefore,  the  young  aide-de-camp 
went  his  way,  not  fully  satisfied  by  any  means,  but  con 
tent  to  seek  explanation  at  corps  headquarters  and  to  in 
vestigate  further  on  his  return.  In  point  of  fact  he  was 


74  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

doubtful  as  to  his  duties  and  prerogatives  in  the  mat 
ter  and  needed  his  general's  advice.  He  meant  to  tell 
him  just  what  he  feared  or  suspected — that  Paul  Ladue 
himself,  in  some  unaccountable  manner,  had  become 
separated  from  his  regiment,  possibly  through  illness 
or  wounds,  and  was  concealed  within  the  shattered  walls 
of  the  old  Virginia  farmhouse.  But,  just  at  the  time 
when  he  most  needed  the  instructions  of  his  own  divi 
sion  chief,  he  was  destined  to  be  cut  off  from  him — 
and  for  many  a  day. 

It  was  after  sundown,  and  long  after,  when  at  last, 
riding  some  miles  at  swift  trot,  he  overtook  the  corps 
commander  with  his  staff  on  the  road  beyond  Centre- 
ville.  "  Ah,"  said  that  soldierly  leader,  "  the  General  is 
prompt.  What  time  did  he  start?  " 

"  Start,  sir? "  said  Benton,  his  heart  beating  quick 
and  hard  again.  "  I  don't  know.  I  was  instructed  to 
deliver  this  letter  and  to  ask  to  have  these  others  sent 
on  to  Washington  by  your  courier  to-night,  but  I 
thought  to  find  you  west  of  Centreville,  not  on  the 
march,  sir." 

"  Then  my  orders  had  not  arrived  when  you  left? 
Why,  what  hour  did  you  leave,  sir?"  and  McDowell's 
face  reddened  as  it  would  when  he  was  annoyed. 

"  About  four  o'clock,  General,  but " 

"  Four  o'clock,  sir!  Then  where  on  earth  have  you 
been  all  this  time?" 

"  I  came  by  way  of  the  Henry  house  to  look  at  the 
old  battle-field,  General.  We  had  no  idea  of  your  mov- 


A  STRANGER  WITHIN   OUR   GATES  75 

ing,  and  there  was  plenty  of  time  before  dark,"  an 
swered  poor  Fred,  noting  with  much  concern  the  omin 
ous  silence  of  the  listening  staff  and  orderlies. 

"  You  must  have  stayed  an  unconscionable  time 
there,"  grumbled  the  general,  who  had  not  yet  ceased 
to  feel  touchy  at  any  mention  of  Bull  Run  the  First. 
("  Longer  than  he  did  last  July,"  laughed  O'Kane,  of 
the  Montgomery's,  when  told  of  it.)  "  Ah,  I  remember. 
That  pretty  daughter  of  old  Chilton's  is  there.  You 
saw  her,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  suppose  I  did,  General,"  was  the  rueful  answer, 
"  though  she  in  no  wise  sought  to  detain  me.  Quite 
the  contrary." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Benton,  your  division  is  doubtless  follow 
ing  us  by  this  time,  and  should  be  across  the  Run.  My 
compliments  to  the  general  and  say  I  will  have  his 
letters  forwarded.  Now,  don't  get  lost  in  the  woods 
on  your  way  back." 

And  thus  summarily  was  the  brief  interview  ended, 
and  the  corps  commander  with  his  staff  rode  on. 

Now  here  was  a  plight  for  an  aide-de-camp!  His 
tent  and  all  his  belongings  were  with  those  of  division 
headquarters  and  would  doubtless  be  taken  care  of  by 
the  staff  quartermaster,  but  where  was  he  to  find  his 
general — and  how?  Well  he  knew  the  division  in 
marching  to  follow  or  overtake  the  others  of  the  corps 
— and  Kearny's  Jersey  brigade  was  just  striding  by  him 
at  the  moment — would  probably  take  the  shortest  road 
from  the  camps  about  Manassas,  would  follow  the  wind- 


76  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

ing  wood  roads  and  cross  Bull  Run  at  Blackburn's  or 
Mitchell's  Ford,  taking  the  hypothenuse  of  the  triangle 
instead  of  the  long  way  around — the  two  adjacent  sides 
formed  by  the  Sudley  Springs  and  Warrenton  roads. 
Yet  he  had  fully  intended  to  be  back  at  the  Henry 
house  before  this  hour  that  found  him  still  in  saddle 
and  crowded  off  the  highway — he  and  his  orderly  both 
beginning  to  get  hungry  and  their  horses  showing  signs 
of  hard  riding.  It  ended  in  his  picking  a  way  past  the 
flank  of  the  marching  column,  every  now  and  then  nar 
rowly  shaving  some  straggler  along  the  dilapidated 
stone  wall  that  skirted  the  pike,  and  after  half  an 
hour's  groping,  finding  himself  once  more  at  Centre- 
ville  as  the  rear  of  Franklin's  fine  division  was  clear 
ing  it. 

On  the  westward  rise  of  the  roadway,  just  beyond  the 
old  stone  church  in  Centreville,  the  wagons  of  this — the 
First  Division — in  double  column  blocked  the  way,  as 
only  one  by  one  could  they  cross  the  ramshackle 
wooden  bridge  over  the  dry  wash  or  shallow  water 
course  at  the  east  end  of  the  hamlet,  and  here  he  was 
able  to  coax  a  few  quarts  of  oats  from  a  complaisant 
teamster,  and  while  Burns,  his  orderly,  set  to  work  to 
rub  down  the  horses  in  the  fenceless  yard  of  the  first 
big  house  to  the  right  of  the  road,  Benton  banged  at 
the  door  in  quest  of  supper.  Those  were  still  the  early 
— the  "  velvet "  days  of  the  war  when  almost  anything 
but  a  square  fight  could  be  had  for  money,  and  the  aide 
was  in  no  wise  surprised  to  find  half  a  dozen  field  and 


A  STRANGER  WITHIN  OUR  GATES       77 

staff  officers  eating  heartily  in  the  kitchen,  and  rather 
loudly  and  coarsely,  yet  not  really  ill-naturedly,  chaffing 
an  elderly,  gray-haired  man  who,  seated  by  himself  at 
a  little  table,  answered  their  crude  sallies  with  impertur 
bable  dignity  and  patience.  One  of  the  number  knew 
Benton  and  jovially  hailed  him  by  name: — 

"  What  ho,  thou  limb  of  the  West!  Fred  Benton,  by 
all  that's  lucky!  Well  met,  my  bold  Badger,  for  we're 
well  nigh  dead  broke.  Our  Boniface  here  wants  a  dol 
lar  apiece  for  our  supper  and  five  dollars  for  the  demi 
john  of  peach  brandy  he'd  been  saving  for  Joe  John 
ston.  We  can  manage  the  tax  for  the  victuals,  Fred. 
It's  the  peach  that  staggers  us."  And  there  was  un 
conscious  truth  in  the  statement,  for  the  entire  party 
showed  symptoms  of  undue  exhilaration. 

"  I'll  stake  you,  provided  you've  left  enough  supper 
for  me  and  my  orderly,"  laughed  Benton.  "  Otherwise 
I'll  see  you  hanged  first.  How  is  it,  friend?  What 
can  you  give  me?  "  and  he  turned  to  the  man  of  the 
house,  and  he  in  turn  to  the  tall,  unkempt  creature  in 
faded  calico,  hair  and  complexion,  just  entering  from 
the  "  leanto  "  at  the  eastward  side.  A  shrug  of  the 
scraggy  shoulders  was  the  significant  reply,  supple 
mented  by  the  brief  word  "  NuthinV 

Somewhere  out  on  the  pike  a  cavalry  trumpet 
sounded  "  Mount,"  and  the  sextette  started.  "  By  Jove! 
There  goes  the  escort,  so  we  must  move,"  cried  a  burly 
major.  "  Come,  Benton,  fork  over  and  we'll  have  a 
stirrup  cup."  With  that  he  lugged  the  demijohn  from 


78  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

underneath  the  table,  slung  it  by  a  deft  turn  of  the 
wrist,  camp  fashion,  across  his  right  forearm,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  pour  a  liberal  shot  into  the  glasses  and  cups 
held  forth  to  him.  Then  the  devil  of  over  stimulation 
sent  him  lunging  across  the  narrow  floor  to  the  table 
where  sat  the  lonely  Virginian.  "  Come,  old  chap,"  he 
cried,  "  you're  all  right.  We've  been  a  little  free,  per 
haps.  Soldiers  will  be  soldiers,  you  know.  You're  a 
gentleman.  Join  us  in  a  drink,  sir,  and  a  toast.  Hey, 
fellows,  let's  have  a  toast." 

"Forward!"  rang  the  trumpets  on  the  soft  night 
wind,  and  the  rumble  of  wheels  gave  way  to.  the  clack 
and  clatter  of  countless  hoofs. 

"Come  on,  major!"  shouted  Captain  Cranston,  he 
who  had  accosted  Benton,  and  by  this  time  had  readily 
effected  the  needed  loan — with  unneeded  increment. 
"Come  on!  Don't  bother  the  gentleman.  We  must 
be  off." 

But  the  major  was  bent  on  another  drink  and  having 
the  gray-haired  stranger  share  it  despite  the  latter's 
plea  to  be  excused. 

"  One  toast — just  one!  "  shouted  he  of  the  demijohn. 
"  Here's  to  Little  Mac,  by  Jupiter,  the  best  general — the 
best  gentleman  in  the  whole  army!  Ain't  he,  old 
chap?" 

And  to  the  surprise  of  all,  even  in  the  midst  of  the 
boisterous  talk  and  confusion  as  the  party  searched  for 
discarded  sabres  and  gauntlets,  the  elderly  stranger 
arose,  held  forth  his  glass  and  courteously  said:  "  Give 


A  STRANGER  WITHIN  OUR  GATES  79 

me  a  thimbleful,  sir.  I'll  join  you  in  that  with  infinite 
pleasure." 

"  Bully  for  you,  old  boy! "  cried  the  major,  who  had 
gulped  a  stiff  three  fingers  whereas  the  Virginian  had 
merely  sipped  at  his  glass.  "  Now,  'scuse  me — just  two 
drops  more.  One  more  toast.  Here's  confusion  to  the 
Confederacy — an'  everything  c'nected  with  it — an', 
an' " 

"  Oh,  come  out  of  this,  Mullen! "  growled  a  comrade, 
grasping  him  by  the  arm.  "  Come  out  or  I'll " 

"  Not  till  I've  had  a  st'rrup  cup  with  this  gen'leman — 
not  till  he  drinks  my  toasht — I've  drunk  his.  Ready, 
sir?  Here's  confush'n  to  the  Confederacy  an'  every 
body —  What!  You  won't  drink  that?  You  a  damned 
reb'l,  too?"  and  before  his  friends  could  interpose  the 
half  crazed  fellow  had  lunged  threateningly  forward  at 
the  pallid  stranger,  who,  having  set  down  his  glass  un 
touched,  stood  facing  them,  one  hand  uplifted  in  silent 
protest.  It  was  Benton  who  sprang  between  them  and 
with  apparently  laughing  ease,  whirled  the  major  about, 
and  with  his  powerful  hands  on  the  burly  shoulders 
sent  him  struggling  and  swearing  to  the  doorway  where 
the  others  closed  about  and  bore  him  away,  one  of  their 
number,  a  young  staff  captain,  running  back  to  say  a 
word  of  apology.  Then  Fred  and  the  stranger  found 
themselves  for  the  moment  alone. 

"  You  have  done  me  a  kindness,  suh,"  said  the  latter. 
"  Did  I  catch  the  name  a-right?  Lieutenant  Fred  Ben- 
ton,  of — of  Wisconsin?  " 


80  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Benton,  yes,"  was  the  wary  answer,  for  though  the 
word  Badger  had  been  spoken,  Wisconsin  had  not. 
Somebody  had  talked  to  this  man  of  him  before  and 
now  light  flashed  suddenly  upon  the  situation. 

"  Are  you — pardon  me — Doctor  Chilton,  of  Char- 
lottesville?  "  asked  Benton. 

"  The  same,  suh,  at  your  suhvice.  I  have  been  to 
General  McClellan  for  permission  to  take  my  son, 
wounded  and  paroled,  back  home,  suh.  He  treated  me 
like  the  courteous  gentleman  he  is,  so  I  drank  his 
health.  Now,  pardon  me,  you  have  not  eaten,"  and 
with  that  Dr.  Chilton  arose,  and  followed  the  whisper 
ing  Darby  and  Joan  into  the  lean-to,  and  when  he  re 
turned  it  was  with  an  air  of  mild  triumph. 

u  You  shall  be  suhved,  suh,  in  a  very  few  moments, 
also  your  orderly  "  (he  called  it  "  ohdly  ").  "  You  ride 
on  to  Fairfax?  " 

"  No,"  said  Benton,  "  I  look  to  meet  my  division 
somewhere  about  here.  They  come  by  way  of  the  lower 
fords,  as  I  am  told." 

"Then  they  are  retiring  from  the  Junction,  too?" 
asked  the  veteran,  an  eager  light  in  his  eye. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  answered  Benton,  coldly  now,  for  the 
sudden  question  put  him  on  his  guard. 

"  Pardon  me,  suh,  if  I  seem  over  pleased.  I  have  no 
reason  to  rejoice.  I  am  too  old  to  serve,  even  if  my 
people  had  not  opposed  the  ordinance  of  secession,  and 
no  enemy  could  be  so  courteous  and  considerate  as 
General  McClellan  and  the  officers  of  your  own  divi- 


A   STRANGER   WITHIN   OUR   GATES  81 

sion.  My  son,  suk, — and  any  other  Virginia  boy  would 
do  the  same,  I  reckon — went  with  his  State,  went  with 
Jeb  Stuart,  suh,  who  is  his  second  cousin,  and  it  is  hard 
to  say  which  is  the  more  distressed  over  his  being  shot 
— my  son,  because  it  was  a  Southern  not  a  Northern 
bullet  that  did  the  business,  or  the  unhappy  fellow  who 
gave  the  order  to  fire." 

"Who  was  that?"  inquired  Benton,  thinking  more 
and  more  of  the  face  he  had  seen  at  the  window. 

"  Mr.  Ladue,  suh — Lieutenant  Paul  Ladue,  of  the 
nth  Alabama.  He  was  on  picket  duty  that  night." 

But  Benton,  with  eager  eyes,  was  rising  from  his 
chair,  unmindful  even  of  the  smoking  supper  the  host 
was  dishing  from  the  stove.  Voices  and  the  trampling 
of  horses'  feet  were  heard  without.  One  voice  that  he 
knew  well  rang  out  clearly  over  all  other  sounds. 

"  You  look  to  it,  Captain,  and  find  Benton.  The  rest 
of  us  will  ride  ahead  after  General  McDowell." 

In  no  time  at  all  Fred  was  hurrying  round  to  the 
front,  but  already  the  general  and  the  few  staff  officers 
and  orderlies  with  him  had  disappeared  in  the  eastward 
darkness,  riding  at  spanking  trot,  leaving  to  represent 
them  only  a  captain  and  one  trooper — a  captain  who 
gave  a  shout  of  joy  and  relief  when  he  heard  Benton's 
glad  hail  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face. 

"The  Lord  be  praised!"  he  cried.      "I  feared  you 

had  gone  back  the  way  you  came.     If  so  you  might 

run  slap  into  the  rebel  lines,  for — they  must  have  heard 

of  the  fall-back  orders — Stuart's  cavalry  are  already  up 

6 


8%  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

from  Warrenton  and  his  advance  has  been  skirmishing 
against  our  rear-guard  toward  Bristoe  ever  since  five 
o'clock.  I  was  sent  to  warn  our  guards  and  sentries 
at  the  Henry  and  Robinson  houses,  and  found  them  all 
in  a  state  of  excitement — that  pretty  Miss  Chilton  dis 
appeared  during  the  hour  between  seven  and  eight,  just 
after  it  grew  dark." 


CHAPTER   VII 


Ten  o'clock  of  the  still,  starlit  night  and,  entering  the 
sleepy  old  hamlet  of  Centreville  by  the  road  from 
Mitchell's  Ford  and  passing  through  without  halt  or 
pause,  a  long  dense  column  in  dusty  blue  went  trudging 
away  to  Fairfax  by  the  broad,  stone-ribbed  pike.  In 
compact  order  the  leading  brigade  of  the  Third  Division 
had  just  cleared  the  village  and  the  general  command 
ing  the  second  in  column  had  turned  out  to  the  left  to 
observe  the  march  when  Captain  Carver  of  the  division 
staff,  striding  up  from  the  westward,  stood  at  salute  and 
bade  the  brigadier  good  evening. 

"  The  very  man  I  wish  to  see  !  "  said  the  general. 
"  Some  of  my  people  ran  foul  of  an  old  F.  F.  V.  about 
a  mile  down  the  road.  He  had  McClellan's  own  pass 
to  the  Henry  house  and  beyond,  and  safe  conduct  for 
a  wounded  son  to  Charlottesville.  He  claimed  that  he 
had  lost  his  way.  Now  is  it  likely  a  Virginian  could 
lose  the  broad  pike  and  get  into  a  wood  road  a  night 
like  this?  I  sent  an  orderly  to  show  him  through  the 
fields  to  Cub  Run  bridge — there's  a  wood  road  just  wide 
enough  for  his  old  ambulance — but  I've  been  thinking 


84  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

over  it  ever  since.  Why  should  he  be  trying  to  go  to 
the  lower  fords?  " 

"  I  know  all  about  him,  General,"  was  Carver's 
prompt  reply.  "  I  found  him  back  here  in  the  village. 
He'd  just  got  Benton  a  bite  to  eat  when  I  came  along 
with  the  news  that  his  pretty  daughter  had  disappeared 
from  the  Henry  house — Meredith's  men  were  on  guard 
there  and  sent  a  courier  to  us  at  the  gallop.  The  news 
upset  him  completely." 

"  Did  you  say  Benton  was  here — in  Centreville? 
Then  where's  the  General?" 

"  Way  ahead,  sir.  General  McDowell  sent  word  for 
him  to  come  forward  and  join  him  and  leave  Meredith  to 
look  after  the  rear-guard,  etc.  It  may  change  the  plan 
when  he  hears  that  Stuart  is  following  us  up.  Yes,  sir, 
Benton  was  there,  but  my  horse  is  lame  and  I  got  him 
to  ride  back  to  stone  bridge.  One  regiment  at  least 
will  have  to  come  that  way,  and  I'll  wait  for  him  here. 
He  will  bring  word  when  Meredith's  rear-guard  is  safe 
across  Bull  Run." 

"How  long  before  Benton  did  Dr.  Chilton  start?" 
asked  the  general,  after  a  moment  of  reflection. 

"  Half  an  hour  or  more,  sir.  It  may  be  that  he  knew 
his  daughter  had  friends  at  Lewis's,  or  perhaps  at  the 
Junction,  but  it  stampeded  him  to  think  of  her  being 
out  alone  with  stragglers  in  those  interminable  wood 
paths." 

The  general  shuddered.  "  I'm  glad  Benton  has  gone 
back,"  said  he.  "  I  know  those  Chiltons — they  are  blue 


A   WOMAN'S   DARING  85 

bloods  all  of  them.  God  help  the  man  that  lays  hand 
on  that  girl — if  I  catch  him!  Let  me  hear  what  Benton 
reports,  will  you,  Carver?  "  and  with  that  they  parted. 

Long  into  that  eventful  night,  impatient,  anxious  and 
finally  in  deep  distress  did  Carver  wait,  but  no  Benton 
came.  At  midnight  the  head  of  Meredith's  column 
came  swinging  through  from  Mitchell's  Ford,  but  no 
word  reached  him  from  the  westward  road — that  by 
the  stone  bridge  to  Groveton,  Gainesville  and  beyond — 
that  along  which  he  had  sent  Fred  Benton,  who  for  his 
part  had  been  most  eager  to  go.  At  two  in  the  morn 
ing  the  first  tidings  reached  him:  Major  May  with  four 
stout  companies  of  Hoosiers — Meredith's  own — halted 
at  the  edge  of  the  village  and  were  bidden  to  lie  down 
and  rest  until  the  remainder  of  the  regiment  appeared. 
Carver  plied  the  officers  with  questions.  Certainly  they 
had  met  Benton,  but  it  was  beyond  the  bridge.  He 
had  an  old  Virginia  doctor  in  tow,  with  a  rickety  ambu 
lance,  and  was  going  to  the  Henry  house  to  gather  up 
a  wounded  Reb  officer.  Yes,  the  sentries  there  were 
to  be  withdrawn  as  soon  as  the  rear-guard  fell  back 
from  the  railway.  Averell's  men  had  been  skirmishing 
with  Stuart's  fellows  until  dark,  and  Meredith  was  in  a 
fit  about  some  girl  that  had  been  spirited  away  from 
the  Henry  house.  What  they  feared  was  that  she  had 
been  abducted,  and  Benton  and  his  doctor  friend 
couldn't  rest  till  they  found  out.  What  time  was  this? 
Oh,  somewhere  about  ten  o'clock!  And  with  this 
meagre  news  had  Carver  to  be  content  until  nearly 


36  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

dawn  when  the  last  of  the  Indianas  came  tramping  up 
the  pike  from  the  lowlands  to  the  west,  and  they  had 
a  story  to  tell  of  adventurous,  gray-jacketed,  black- 
plumed  troopers  who,  just  as  the  last  guards  were  leav 
ing  the  plateau  in  the  direction  of  the  Lewis  house,  or 
Portici,  came  galloping  across  Young's  Branch  from 
the  northwest,  right  under  Henry  house  hill,  and 
scrimmaging  with  some  fellows  down  on  the  pike  at  the 
crossing  of  the  Sudley  lane.  The  whole  gang  was  off 
and  away  toward  Groveton  long  before  a  battalion 
could  be  gathered  up  and  marched  back  to  the  scene. 

Not  until  weeks  after  could  Fred  Benton's  own 
story  be  told,  but  it  was  a  strange  and  thrilling  one. 
With  infinite  sympathy  he  and  the  orderlies  had  aided 
Dr.  Chilton  to  harness  his  horses  to  the  old-fashioned, 
side-seated,  half  'bus,  half  ambulance  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  Warrenton — borrowed,  probably,  from 
the  hotel,  or  possibly  some  field  hospital,  as  the  best 
available  vehicle  in  which  to  convey  his  wounded  boy. 
The  doctor  was  tremulous  with  dread  and  distress  on 
account  of  his  beloved  daughter,  and  utterly  unable  to 
account  for  her  strange  disappearance. 

She  had  been  left  there  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Henry 
to  nurse  and  soothe  her  fevered  brother  until  the 
father's  return.  Dr.  Alexander  had  been  there  early 
that  morning  before  Chilton  started  in  quest  of  General 
McClellan,  in  fact  the  two  came  away  at  the  same  time, 
and  Alexander  had  left  abundant  medicine  and  the 
prophecy  that  by  evening  the  patient  would  sleep,  and 


A   WOMAN'S   DARING  87 

that  was  what  was  very  much  needed.  Chilton  could 
think  of  no  reason  whatever  for  her  wandering  beyond 
sight  of  the  sentries,  and  surely  they  would  not  dare 

He  drove  away,  with  all  speed  toward  stone  bridge, 
pass  and  papers  in  his  outer  pocket,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
promptly  show  his  credentials  to  any  sentries  or  patrols, 
and  Benton  was  trying,  half  an  hour  later,  to  satisfactor 
ily  account  for  what  he  had  heard  and  thought  he  had 
seen  that  day,  when  Carver  came  for  him  to  say  his 
horse  was  dead  lame.  He  had  been  directed  to  remain 
behind  and  to  see  the  last  detachments  across  the  Run, 
then  to  rejoin  the  chief  as  soon  as  he  had  found  Benton. 
This,  therefore,  was  Benton' s  chance  and  he  begged. 

"  Let  me  go  back,"  said  he,  "  and  you  take  your  or 
derly's  horse,  if  you  can't  get  another,  and  report  to 
the  general  in  the  morning." 

And  so  about  ten  o'clock  Fred  had  reached  the  stone 
bridge,  found  it  held  by  a  small  guard,  and  with  that 
guard  was  a  young  officer  who  had  been  at  the  Robin 
son  and  Henry  houses  two  hours  before  and  had  heard 
all  about  the  circumstances  connected  with  Miss  Chil- 
ton's  disappearance — had  indeed  been  there  for  some 
time  and  had  seen  her.  She  had  come  to  the  rear  door 
with  Mr.  Henry  about  half  past  five  o'clock,  and  very 
sweetly  and  smilingly  had  told  the  guards  her  brother 
was  sleeping  at  last  and  that  she  needed  a  little  fresh 
air.  Lieutenant  Ferguson  was  in  command  of  the 
guard,  "  And  you  know  what  an  eye  for  a  pretty  girl 
Ferguson  has,"  and  he  begged  her  to  consider  the  pre- 


88  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

mises  hers,  and  probably  wanted  to  walk  with  her,  but 
for  twenty  minutes  she  tripped  about  the  old,  dismantled 
garden,  going  all  around  it  as  though  interested  in  what 
was  left  of  the  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers,  and,  about 
six,  Lewis  came  and  called  her  and  said  supper  was 
ready,  and  she  seemed  reluctant  to  go  in,  but  finally 
yielded,  telling  Ferguson  that  if  there  were  no  objec 
tions  she  would  finish  her  walk  later.  It  might  be  dark 
and  chilly,  but  she  knew  the  garden  now  and  would 
throw  a  shawl  over  her  head.  Ferguson  said,  "  By  all 
means,"  and  sure  enough,  right  after  dark,  out  she  came 
again,  slim  and  fragile-looking,  but  well  wrapped  up, 
and  Henry  begged  her  not  to  stay  out  long.  We  saw 
her  flitting  about  in  the  dim  light  of  the  camp-fire  and 
lanterns  a  moment  or  two,  then  she  seemed  to  take  to 
the  outer  edge  of  the  enclosure,  and  then,  by  Jove,  she 
disappeared  totally.  They  hunted  everywhere,  and 
while  they  were  hunting  Captain  Carver  rode  up  with 
orders  for  Ferguson  and  was  told  what  had  happened. 
He  was  compelled  to  leave  at  once,  but  the  search  con 
tinued.  "  It  is  a  perfect  mystery,"  said  the  lieutenant, 
removing  his  cap  and  wiping  his  brow. 

Then  while  they  were  talking,  the  sentries  challenged 
at  the  bridge,  and,  to  the  amaze  of  Benton,  who  should 
appear  but  old  Dr.  Chilton  with  his  country  omnibus 
and  the  strange  explanation  that  he  had  lost  the  road 
— got  way  south  toward  the  lower  fords  and  had  been 
turned  back  by  no  less  a  personage  than  General  Augur, 
whom  he  had  met  at  Washington  several  years  before 


A   WOMAN'S   DARING  89 

when  the  general  was  a  captain  of  regulars.  Benton's 
guarantee  to  the  guard  was  sufficient,  and  they  let  the 
doctor  go  on  his  westward  way  and  Benton  went  with 
him,  that  he  might  give  the  anxious  father  these  further 
particulars  as  they  trotted  along  the  dim,  shadowy  vista 
of  the  famous  old  thoroughfare.  At  Young's  Branch 
crossing  not  a  mile  beyond  stone  bridge  they  had  met 
May's  battalion,  and  after  five  minutes'  talk  with  the 
officers,  again  pushed  on,  while  the  Hoosiers  tramped 
for  Centreville.  Benton  had  determined  now  to  revisit 
the  Henry  house  and  make  still  further  investigation. 

But  he  never  reached  it.  Pushing  westward  along 
the  pike  they  noted  that  all  was  darkness  about  the  old 
Robinson  place  on  the  rise  to  the  south,  and  then  were 
surprised  to  see  lights  flitting  about  the  stone  house, 
close  to  the  road  on  the  right  hand  side.  Then  voices 
in  excited  tones  were  heard  within.  Two  or  three  were 
harsh  and  threatening,  one  was  uplifted  in  mingled  plea 
and  protest,  and  then,  from  the  direction  of  the  Sudley 
road,  only  a  few  yards  away,  came  shadowy  forms,  just 
visible  under  the  starlight.  "Halt!"  was  the  instant 
order  from  Benton's  lips,  low,  yet  commanding,  and  his 
revolver  seemed  to  leap  from  the  holster.  "  Who  are 
you?" 

"  Patrol — Nineteenth  Indiana,"  was  the  prompt  an 
swer.  "  Is  that  you,  Lieutenant  Benton?  Three  of  our 
fellows  strayed  away,  and  the  captain  ordered  me  down 
here  to  look  'em  up.  They've  called  in  the  guard  at  the 
Henry  house — where  you  were  this  afternoon." 


90  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

"  Your  men  are  here — in  this  house,  and  you're  just 
in  time,  I  fancy,"  for  now  there  were  sounds  of  scuffle 
and  violence.  Benton  was  off  his  horse  in  a  second  and, 
followed  by  the  sergeant  and  two  or  three  men,  hurled 
himself  at  the  door,  which  gave  way  before  his  impetu 
ous  rush,  and  in  another  moment  he  had  sprung 
through  one  dismantled  room  into  another  at  the  rear 
of  the  house,  and  there  came  upon  a  sight  that  explained 
the  whole  situation — a  demijohn — the  mate  to  the  one 
he  had  seen  at  Centreville — stood  on  a  rude  sideboard, 
with  only  one  civilian  to  defend  it  against  three  sturdy 
lads  in  full  marching  order  who  had  evidently  just  had 
enough  "  peach  "  to  be  mad  for  more.  One  of  them 
had  grappled  with  the  owner,  the  other  two  were  watch 
ing  a  chance  for  a  leap  at  the  prize  when  Benton  and 
the  sergeant  burst  in  upon  them. 

Shame-stricken,  caught  in  the  act,  the  three  maraud 
ers  faced  the  rescuing  party  and  sheepishly,  foolishly, 
furtively  glanced  about  them,  from  the  tall  staff  officer 
to  the  grinning  comrades  at  his  back. 

"  Are  these  your  missing  men,  sergeant?"  demanded 
Benton. 

"  They  are,  sir." 

"What  do  they  owe  you,  sir?"  demanded  the  aide, 
turning  to  the  elderly  man  at  the  sideboard  who 
was  nursing  a  bruised  throat,  yet  looking  infinitely 
thankful. 

"  They  don't  owe  me — 'cept  for  a  few  drinks  of  peach 
— I'd  a  given  them  that  gladly  if  they'd  said  they  were 


A  WOMAN'S  DARING  91 

dry  and  hadn't  any  money,  but  when  it  came  to  takin' 
the  demijohn  I  'lowed  it  was  robbery." 

"  How  dare  you  men  break  in  here?  "  demanded  Ben- 
ton,  sternly.  "  You  know  the  orders  against  plunder 
ing.  Take  their  names,  sergeant,  and  turn  them  over 
to  the  guard  when  you  overtake  the  regiment.  Major 
May's  battalion  is  only  a  mile  or  so  ahead  of  you." 

"  May  I  say  a  word,  sir?  "  asked  one  of  the  trio,  step 
ping  forward,  with  a  shifty  salute,  for  all  three  seemed 
sobered  by  their  plight. 

"  Say  on." 

"  We  didn't  break  in,  sir.  The  door  was  open,  the 
light  in  the  window.  We  were  down  here  before  eight 
o'clock  with  the  sergeant,  trying  to  find  news  of  the 
young  lady,  and  this  fellow  can  tell  about  her  and  won't 
tell.  It  was  that  we  came  to  see  about.  He  set  up  the 
peach  to  keep  us  from  '  peaching,' "  and  the  scamp  had 
the  impudence  to  grin  over  his  own  conceit. 

"  Take  those  men  outside,"  ordered  Benton,  implac 
ably,  "  and  ask  Dr.  Chilton  to  step  in  here  a  moment. 
I'm  afraid  you're  hurt,"  he  continued,  for  the  man 
had  turned  pale  and  was  leaning  against  the  sideboard 
for  support.  At  sound  of  the  name  "  Chilton "  he 
started  and  glared.  Obediently  the  sergeant  marched 
his  prisoners  to  the  outer  air,  and,  presently,  in  came 
the  doctor.  One  quick  glance  passed  between  him  and 
the  pallid  Virginian. 

"You  here  now,  Jennings!"  cried  the  newcomer; 
"  and  hurt?  How  did  it  happen?  When  did  you  get 


92  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

here?  Have  you  seen — do  you  know  anything  of  Rosa 
lie?"  and  by  this  time  his  practised  finger  was  at  the 
other's  pulse — the  other  who  for  all  reply  glanced  sig 
nificantly,  warningly  toward  Benton,  and  seemed  striv 
ing  to  bid  his  friend  be  silent.  But  the  doctor  was  all 
impatience. 

"Speak  man!  This  gentleman  is  a  friend — a  friend 
in  need.  You  have  seen  her.  Is  she  safe?  Is  she 
harmed?" 

"  Safe,"  was  the  sententious  answer,  with  still  another 
significant  look,  disregarded  as  before  by  Chilton. 

"  But  what  does  it  mean?  Why  should  she  leave 
Henry's?  She  was  to  take  care  of  her  brother  till  I 
returned.  Had  anybody  dared — affront  her — there? 
Where  is  she,  Jennings?  Answer  me,  man!  " 

But  despite  the  almost  agonized  appeal,  despite  the 
assurance  that  Benton,  though  in  the  garb  of  the  enemy 
was  yet  a  friend,  the  Virginian  could  not  reply.  "  Wait, 
doctor — wait  till  you  see  Judge  Armistead.  He'll  tell 
you  the  hull  story.  He's  coming  over  from  Hopewell 
this  evening " 

"Judge  Armistead — here?  And  she  went  with  him, 
do  you  mean — and  left  my  boy?  Why,  Jennings,  I  can't 
believe  it." 

And  then  the  Hoosier  sergeant  again  came  to  the 
door. 

"  Sharp  firing,  Lieutenant,  south  of  us!  Shall  I  fol 
low  Major  May  or  turn  after  the  guard  toward  the 
Lewis  place?  " 


A  WOMAN'S   DARING  93 

Leaving  the  two  Virginians  Benton  stepped  outside. 
The  moon  was  just  peeping  above  the  trees  toward  the 
distant  heights  of  Centreville  and  near  by  objects  were 
become  more  readily  visible  in  the  faint  and  mystic 
light.  Somewhere  to  the  south — toward  the  Junction — 
Stuart's  venturesome  troopers  had  come  in  view  of 
slowly  retiring  parties  of  the  Western  brigade  and  a 
fairly  brisk  fusilade  was  the  result.  For  a  moment  the 
officer  listened  to  the  spiteful  crackle  of  carbine  and 
rifle,  then  answered  the  question.  "  Better  follow  the 
major — and  lively,  too.  I'll  catch  you  before  you've 
gone  quarter  of  a  mile." 

He  felt  that  it  was  now  unsafe  to  return  to  the  Henry 
house.  The  guard  was  gone.  The  chances  were  that 
within  a  few  minutes  Stuart's  troopers  would  be  coming 
up  the  Sudley  road  from  the  south.  He  would  say  a 
word  of  farewell  to  Dr.  Chilton,  then  follow  his  men. 
Leaving  the  horses  with  the  orderly  in  front,  he  once 
more  turned,  and  as  he  entered  the  rear  room,  stopping 
a  most  excited  conversation,  he  was  amazed  to  see 
the  back  door  which  had  been  shut  and  barred  three 
minutes  before,  swiftly  closing  behind  a  slender  figure 
in  the  trim  frock  coat  of  gray — the  uniform  of  the  Con 
federate  service.  He  caught  the  merest  fraction  of  a 
glimpse  of  a  pallid,  oval  face,  framed  in  a  mass  of  dark, 
waving  hair  under  a  cavalier  hat  of  felt — a  glimpse  of 
the  gleam  of  buttons  and  gold  lace.  He  saw  the  same 
form  flash  by  the  northward  window,  and  instead  of 
pursuing,  whirled  about,  sprang  through  the  front 


94  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

door  again  and  round  to  the  westward  side  of  the 
house  just  missing  collision  with  a  panting  corporal 
who  cried,  "  Reb  officer  ran  down  this  way  from  the 
Henry  house.  Me  and  Hinks  followed."  All  in  an 
instant  then  his  suspicions  were  confirmed.  All  in  a 
second's  time,  it  seemed,  he  had  hurled  himself  on  a  dim, 
lithe,  yet  fragile  form  and,  clasping  it  in  his  arms, 
strained  it,  despite  furious  struggles,  to  his  breast. 
"  Paul— Paul!  "  he  cried.  "  Don't  you  know  me?— Fred? 
Surrender,  you  blessed  boy  Reb,  surrender.  Heavens, 
man,  don't  scratch!"  for  two  furious  little  hands  were 
tearing  at  his  cheeks.  "  Speak,  you  sinner.  Haven't 
I  known  since  five  o'clock  'twas  you  I  saw  at  the  win 
dow?" 

But  so  far  from  speaking,  only  panting  incoheren- 
cies  escaped  the  lips  of  his  captive.  Straining,  squirm 
ing,  heaving,  struggling,  the  slender,  sinewy  form 
writhed  and  palpitated  in  his  clasp,  a  heart  was  throb 
bing  like  mad  against  his,  and  while  he  still  clung  with 
one  arm  to  his  prize,  he  seized  and  captured  with  the 
other  hand  a  long,  slim-fingered,  sharp-nailed  little 
member  that  was  bent,  apparently,  on  tearing  out  his 
eyes,  and  then,  swaying  and  staggering,  Benton  bore  his 
prize  into  the  moonlit  space  beyond  just  as  the  doctor 
and  the  Virginian,  lantern-bearing,  came  stumbling  out 
into  the  night.  The  yellow  gleam  fell  full  on  a  beauti 
ful,  dark,  flushing  face,  framed  in  masses  of  dusky  hair 
tumbling  about  the  sloping  shoulders  and  down  the 
slender  back — for  the  natty  slouch  hat  had  been  lost 


A  WOMAN'S   DARING  95 

somewhere  in  the  scuffle — fell  upon  glowing,  indignant, 
magnificent  eyes,  upon  flashing  white  teeth,  upon  lovely, 
ruddy,  parted  lips,  and  in  amaze,  yet  still  clinging  to 
his  lovely  captive,  Benton  stammered: — 

"  Not  Paul,  but,  whoever  you  are — my  prisoner!  " 
"  Not  Paul — nor  your  prisoner!  "  was  the  sudden,  ex 
ultant  answer,  in  a  voice  that  ever  since  early  evening 
had  been  ringing  in  his  ears.  "  Not  your  prisoner. 
You're  ours!  Do  you  hear?"  And  out  of  the  silence 
of  the  night  there  burst  the  thunder  of  galloping  hoofs, 
close  upon  them,  sweeping  like  a  tornado  over  the  open 
fields  to  the  northwest,  and  then  there  came,  whirling 
into  view  and  surging  all  about  them  a  swarm  of  shout 
ing,  jubilant  cavaliers — Stuart's  Virginians  in  all  their 
early  glory. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A   BADGER   IN   THE   TOILS 

The  rest  of  that  night  was  long  a  blank  in  Benton's 
mind.  He  had  vague  recollection  of  a  furious  struggle, 
of  trampling  horses,  of  shining,  whirling  sabre  blades, 
of  a  leap  to  saddle  and  frantic  effort  to  cut  his  way 
through  circling  foes,  of  riders'  shouts,  a  woman's 
scream,  a  crushing  blow  that  nearly  split  his  skull,  and 
then — oblivion  until  morning;  and  the  face  bending 
fondly,  anxiously  over  him,  as  he  opened  his  eyes,  was 
that  of  Paul  Ladue,  and  the  first  words  that  faltered 
from  his  lips  were:  "Paul,  poor  old  boy!  How  sick 
you  must  have  been ! "  for,  white  and  haggard  and  dis 
tressed,  the  winsome  features  of  the  year  gone  by — the 
dream  face  of  his  chosen  friend,  seemed  aged  and  worn 
almost  beyond  recognition. 

Then  there  were  hours  of  trundling  over  rough,  half 
frozen  roads,  with  a  racking  pain  in  his  fevered  head 
and  incessant  thirst.  Bearded  faces  came  and  peered 
at  him  from  time  to  time,  not  in  enmity  or  hate,  but  al 
most  in  soldier  sympathy,  and  one  young  fellow  in  a 
gray  jacket  and  cap  three  sizes  too  big  for  him,  perched 
on  the  back  step  of  the  ambulance  in  which  he  rode  and 
gave  him  frequently  cool  water  from  his  canteen.  The 


A   BADGER   IN   THE   TOILS  97 

letters  U.  S.  in  black  were  on  the  white  canvas  cover, 
and  the  letters  C.  S.  in  gilt  on  the  clumsy  gray  forage 
cap,  and  Fred  dreamily  sought  to  reconcile  the  discrep 
ancy  until  his  boy  attendant  divined  his  thoughts  and 
with  an  embarrassed  laugh  explained  that  this  was  "  one 
of  the  wheeled  things  left  behind  at  stone  bridge  last 
July."  From  time  to  time,  too,  Dr.  Chilton  came  and 
ministered  to  and  comforted  him.  "  It's  the  fotune  of 
wah,  my  deah  suh,"  said  he.  "  Yes'dy  my  boy,  my 
daughter  and  young  Ladue  yahnduh  were  all  in  your 
hands.  Now  it's  just  the  other  way.  Be  patient,  suh. 
Once  across  the  Rappahannock  we'll  take  to  the  cyahs. 
This  side  the  river  the  railway  is  all  ripped  up." 

Four  patients  had  Chilton  to  care  for  now,  it  seems, 
and  by  General  Johnston's  orders,  fast  as  they  could 
possibly  be  transported,  he  was  conveying  them  under 
cavalry  escort  beyond  the  river.  In  very  serious  plight 
was  his  own  gallant  boy,  the  lieutenant  of  the  First 
Virginia  Cavalry,  to  rescue  whom  his  comrades  had 
made  that  wide  detour  and  sudden  and  surprising  swoop 
from  the  northward  side  of  the  pike.  Consciousness 
had  returned  to  him  after  the  long  sleep  of  the  previous 
evening,  and  now  the  tossing  of  the  light,  springy  am 
bulance  over  the  rough,  rutted  pike  gave  him  torment 
unspeakable.  Reclining  in  the  second  ambulance 
throughout  the  morning  hours  was  Miss  Chilton,  suffer 
ing  both  from  shock  and  partial  collapse,  for  she  had 
been  knocked  down  by  a  rushing,  riderless  horse  in  the 
midst  of  the  melee  in  front  of  the  stone  house  and  se- 
7 


98  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

verely  bruised  and  shaken.  Yet  was  that  young  woman 
brimming  over  with  indignation  at  her  father  because 
he  would  not  let  her  rise  and  nurse  her  brother,  and  at 
every  halt  for  rest  or  repairs,  food  or  water,  her  voice 
could  be  heard  in  emphatic  protest  and  appeal.  Third 
on  the  list  of  invalids,  but  insisting  on  remaining  in 
saddle,  was  Lieutenant  Paul  Ladue — the  unhappiest 
man  in  the  party,  worn  down  with  grief  and  anxiety. 
Fourth  and  last  was  Fred  Benton,  with  a  bandaged 
skull  and  a  broken  arm — captured  in  the  moment  of 
supposed  victory. 

In  the  gray  of  the  dawn  that  followed  the  fight 
Stuart's  troopers  had  been  able  to  bring  forward  three 
ambulances,  to  give  the  doctor  and  his  party  a  soldier 
breakfast  and  start  them  westward  along  the  pike.  At 
Gainesville  they  had  been  joined  by  Judge  Armistead, 
an  honored  and  beloved  neighbor,  who  since  the  out 
break  of  the  unhappy  war  had  retired  to  his  old  country 
home  near  Hopewell  Gap,  and  with  the  judge,  or  rather 
in  one  of  the  houses  of  the  little  hamlet  at  the  forks 
of  the  great  highway,  was  Lieutenant  Paul  Ladue,  self- 
incarcerated  until  he  could  exchange  the  garb  in  which 
he  had  made  his  escape  from  the  Henry  house  the  pre 
vious  evening,  for  the  stunning  regimentals  still  in  pos 
session  of  Rosalie  Chilton. 

Already  the  story  of  that  romantic  and  stirring  epi 
sode  was  going  from  bearded  lip  to  lip  among  the  riders 
of  Stuart's  Horse,  and  before  the  second  sunset  follow 
ing  Fred  Benton's  capture  he  had  heard  almost  every 


A  BADGER  TN  THE   TOILS  99 

word  of  it,  so  what  was  so  widely  known  may  just  as 
well  be  told  here.  The  dark  night  of  the  fourth  of 
March  had  been  a  sorry  one  for  Paul  Ladue.  Ever 
since  the  previous  week  he  and  his  comrades  had  been 
looking  for  the  second  coming  of  the  Yankee  columns 
from  the  forts  in  front  of  Washington.  Day  after  day, 
armed  with  field-glasses,  in  belfry,  tree  or  steeple,  John 
ston's  lookouts  watched  for  the  first  sight  of  screening 
cavalry.  Night  after  night,  eastward  along  the  pike 
toward  Fairfax  and  northward  along  the  wood-roads, 
Stuart's  patrols  scoured  the  approaches,  eager  for  a 
chance  to  show  their  mettle  and  gather  in  the  venture 
some  advance-guard  of  the  Union  force.  They  were 
all  "  green  "  at  such  work,  North  and  South  both.  Al 
ready  had  the  Northern  volunteers,  marching  by  night, 
on  converging  roads,  twice  opened  fire  and  killed  or 
wounded  several  in  each  party  before  discovering  their 
blunder.  It  was  all  nervous  business  for  new  and  in 
experienced  officers  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Paul 
Ladue,  only  just  up  from  a  debilitating  fever,  found 
himself  commanding  an  infantry  outpost  north  of  Bull 
Run,  heard  afar  out  at  the  front  the  neigh  of  horses 
and  presently  the  dull  tramping  of  hoofs.  He  was  at 
the  moment  accompanied  only  by  a  little  picket  guard 
of  a  corporal  and  three  men.  The  skies  were  overcast, 
the  gloom  intense,  and  the  wind  at  intervals  was  sway 
ing  the  bows  and  rustling  the  dead  leaves  in  the  thickets 
by  the  roadside.  No  cavalry  had  been  in  their  front  at 
sunset.  None  had  passed  out  that  way,  and  when  at 


100  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

brisk  trot,  all  ignorant  of  their  proximity  to  the  pickets, 
the  troopers  came  surging  down  the  lane,  never  hear 
ing,  probably,  and  certainly  never  heeding  the  order  to 
halt,  Ladue  shouted  fire  and,  sorely  wounded,  young 
Chilton  fell  from  his  horse. 

Five  seconds  more  and  the  error  was  discovered. 
Chilton  and  his  platoon  had  taken  the  wrong  road 
somewhere  south  of  Chantilly  and,  instead  of  rejoining 
their  squadron,  had  stumbled  on  the  pickets.  There 
was  more  or  less  soldier  recrimination,  but,  quickly  as 
possible,  the  wounded  officer  was  borne  in  a  blanket  to 
a  neighboring  farmhouse,  and  a  trooper  galloped  to 
Gainesville  for  a  surgeon.  Ladue  spent  a  sleepless  and 
miserable  night,  was  exonerated  by  his  division  com 
mander  and  Stuart  when  the  matter  was  investigated 
next  day,  but  was  so  utterly  broken  up  over  the  affair 
that  permission  was  given  him  to  go  back  again  and 
remain  with  Chilton  until  he  could  be  moved.  It  had 
developed  that  during  Paul's  illness  he  had  been  for 
three  weeks  at  Charlottesville,  constantly  attended  by 
Dr.  Chilton  and  frequently  visited,  nursed,  read  to  and 
otherwise  entertained  by  Dr.  Chilton's  most  winsome 
daughter — as  enthusiastic  a  little  Southron  and  rebel  as 
her  father  had  been  conservative  and  Union  loving. 
Ladue  left  them  full  of  gratitude,  full  of  promise  to  find 
the  gallant  young  trooper  of  whom  they  talked  inces 
santly,  full  of  project  to  make  much  of  him  in  every  way, 
and  the  very  first  duty  his  evil  star  had  assigned  to  him 
was  that  in  the  course  of  which  he  had  shot  his  bene- 


A   BADGER   IN   THE   TOILS  101 

factor's  only  son — sweet  Rosalie v  Chilton's  beloved 
brother.  .  '  ;,  :  \  \\ '' ''- '*:  '/v ;•/''. 

No  wonder  Ladue,  with  his  high-strung,  hypersensi 
tive  organization,  was  nearly  mad  with  misery,  yet  he 
had  managed  for  two  days  to  be  very  helpful  and  a  great 
comfort  to  the  stricken  lad  and  was  hopefully  awaiting 
the  coming  of  an  ambulance  on  the  third  day  when  his 
patient  suddenly  took  a  turn  for  the  worse.  The  divi 
sion  surgeon  said  it  would  be  a  serious  matter  to  take 
him  that  long  ride  back  to  Warrenton  and  suggested 
Ladue's  going  over  to  the  home  of  Judge  Armistead  at 
Hopewell  and  arranging  to  have  the  lad  moved  thither. 
This  was  on  the  eighth  of  March,  and  up  to  noon  they 
had  no  sign  of  soldiers  coming  from  the  east  or  north, 
although  for  three  days  Johnston  had  been  sending 
sick,  wounded  and  supplies  to  the  Rappahannock  and 
was  now  following  with  his  whole  command.  At  Hope- 
well,  said  the  surgeon,  Lieutenant  Chilton  would  be  in 
comfort,  far  out  of  the  line  of  Yankee  invasion,  and 
the  judge  and  his  fair  daughter  Lucy  would  do  every 
thing  possible  to  promote  his  recovery.  Ladue  could 
be  with  him,  too,  and  if  Yankee  cavalry  should  come 
scouting  up  there  in  the  Bull  Run  range,  why,  Ladue 
could  hide  and  Chilton  give  his  parole  until  regularly 
exchanged. 

So  Paul  had  gone,  never  counting  on  Chilton's  tak 
ing  the  bit  in  his  teeth.  And  when  late  at  night  he  re 
turned  to  Thornton,  weak  and  weary,  he  was  aghast  to 
learn  that  with  only  his  body  servant  and  a  trooper 


102  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

nurse,  Chiiton  had-  starred  southward  that  evening  by 
the  Stsdley.  roa,d,  bent  on  escaping  from  the  now  her 
alded  advance  of  the  Union-  blae.  Despite  fatigue  and 
failing  strength,  Ladue  followed,  caught  them  at  the 
Henry  house,  and  was  within  that  historic  wreck,  con 
sulting  the  owner  as  to  the  best  roads  to  follow  while 
the  farm  wagon,  with  its  solitary  escort  was  toiling  up 
the  slope  from  the  crossing  of  the  pike,  when  all  on  a 
sudden  there  came  a  cloud  of  blue-jacketed,  yellow- 
trimmed  troopers  sweeping  across  the  field  from  the 
southeast,  and  Mr.  Henry  had  barely  time  to  hide  his 
visitor  under  the  flooring  in  the  garret  when  they  were 
dismounting  by  the  dozen  and  jovially  swarming  all 
over  the  premises. 

Another  moment,  too,  and  they  had  surrounded  the 
wagon  with  its  helpless  load.  Then  Averell  himself  had 
ridden  up  to  investigate,  and  one  of  his  first  orders  was 
that  the  Henry  house  and  grounds  were  to  be  protected 
against  all  possibility  of  pillage  or  vandalism. 

Again  must  it  be  remembered  that  we  were  still  at  a 
sentimental  stage  of  the  war — the  United  States  hold 
ing  long,  as  it  has  in  dealing  with  savage  and  semi- 
civilized  foe,  mob,  Modoc  or  Malay,  to  the  theory  that 
courtesy  and  forbearance  are  weapons  more  potent  than 
shot  and  steel,  for  turning  the  heart  of  the  enemy  and 
leading  him  to  the  light.  Sad  experience  long  since 
had  taught  the  soldier  the  futility  of  such  practice,  even 
when  dealing  with  our  brethren  of  the  South.  But  the 
statesmen  most  in  evidence  and  power  when  such  mat- 


A   BADGER   IN   THE   TOILS  103 

ters  are  under  discussion  at  the  Capitol  speak  beauti 
fully,  eloquently  from  the  viewpoint  of  a  section  geo 
graphically  over  the  furthest  removed  from  the  seat  of 
conflict  and  impervious,  therefore,  to  the  rule  "  experi- 
entia  docet."  We  went  into  that  war  with  the  South 
hailed  as  vandals,  hirelings,  mudsills  and  the  like  and 
stood  guard  over  the  teeming  storehouses  and  cellars 
of  scores  of  families  whose  sons  and  sires  were  fighting 
us  at  the  front  and  whose  mothers,  wives  and  daughters 
too  often  reviled  or  ridiculed  their  very  guardians.  It 
is  the  way  of  the  enlightened,  the  merciful  and  the  im 
practical,  but  it  is  the  way  to  prolong  and  protract  a  war 
and  make  it  cost  vastly  more  in  blood  and  treasure 
at  the  far  distant  end  than  had  it  been  fought,  without 
gloves,  from  the  start. 

The  Henry  house  had  been  for  a  time  the  vortex  of 
furious  fight  that  July  Sunday  of  '61.  The  aged,  bed 
ridden  mother,  as  has  been  said,  had  died  under  her 
own  roof-tree,  riddled  by  shell  and  spherical  case  shot. 
Everybody  sympathized  with  the  unhappy  family,  and  it 
was  but  natural  that  both  sides,  having  done  the  dam 
age,  should  seek  to  repay  it  by  subsequent  care  and 
kindness.  Within  those  guarded  walls,  therefore,  poor 
young  Chilton,  racked  with  pain,  was  borne  and  given 
stimulant ;  and  when  later  the  infantry  of  McDowell's 
Corps  relieved  the  cavalry,  and  the  black-bearded  divi 
sion  commander  rode  over  to  see  the  place,  the  orders 
to  permit  no  intrusion  or  plunder  were  emphasized,  and 
from  his  own  stores  the  general  sent  wine  and  food  to 


104  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

the  wounded  captive  and  much  appreciated  supplies  to 
the  man  of  the  house. 

But  while  none  save  officers  of  rank  or  their  repre 
sentatives  might  enter,  none  of  the  inmates,  even  offi 
cers,  might  now  go  out  save  by  express  sanction  of  the 
senior  general  along  that  front.  It  wouldn't  do  to  have 
Mr.  Henry  or  Black  Dan,  his  henchman,  or  Chilton's 
body  servant  Fabius  (originally  Scipio,  but  changed 
while  young  marse  was  pursuing  his  classical  studies  at 
the  university,  because  of  a  manifest  tendency  on  the 
darkey's  part  to  delay  even  in  waiting)  skipping  away 
with  information  as  to  the  numbers,  plans,  etc.,  of  the 
Yankees  about  Manassas,  and  so  it  had  happened  that 
for  two  days  Paul  Ladue  lay  concealed  within  the  Henry 
house — once  when  the  guard  was  changed  hearing 
voices  he  recognized  as  those  of  men  he  well  knew  in 
his  Western  home.  Will  he  ever  forget  the  afternoon 
that  brought  the  division  commander  to  the  spot?  Dr. 
Alexander  was  gently  examining  his  new  and  sore- 
stricken  patient ;  Henry  was  smoking  his  corn-cob  pipe 
at  the  back  steps,  describing  to  a  knot  of  Sixth  Wis 
consin  men  the  battle  in  which  their  comrades  of  the 
Second  had  been  so  conspicuous,  when  the  word  was 
passed  from  the  sentries  at  the  front :  "  Here  comes  the 
general!  "  and  while  the  guard  sprang  to  their  stacked 
arms,  Paul  Ladue,  crouching  sadly  in  the  little  garret, 
crept  to  the  westward  side  and  peered  through  a  crevice 
at  the  coming  cavalcade. 

All  in  the  uniform  of  their  rank,  in  frock  coats,  belts 


A  BADGER   IN  THE  TOILS  105 

and  sashes,  gauntlets  and  forage  caps,  with  regulation 
horse  equipments,  for,  thus  early  in  the  campaign  men 
cared  more  for  style  than  they  did  after  ceaseless 
marching  to  and  fro,  in  sun  and  dust  and  mud  and  rain, 
had  taught  them  the  vanity  of  all  pomp  and  circum 
stance  in  war — the  general  and  his  little  staff  made  gal 
lant  show  as  they  breasted  the  slope.  There  were  only 
five  in  all,  with  three  orderlies  and  no  escort,  but  in 
three  of  the  five  Ladue  saw  the  faces  of  men  whom  he 
had  looked  up  to,  honored  and  esteemed,  while  the  face 
of  the  fourth  was  that  of  the  faithful  and  devoted  friend 
whom  he  had  loved  as  David  loved  Jonathan.  Only  a 
few  moments  did  they  remain,  the  general,  in  his  cour 
teous,  kindly  tone  talking  with  Mr.  Henry,  then  they 
turned  and  rode  away,  and  Ladue  threw  himself  upon 
the  floor,  face  downward,  so  weak,  so  broken,  so  sick 
at  heart  that  it  was  a  relief  to  sob  like  homesick  child. 

And  so  Henry  found  him,  when  in  his  stocking  feet, 
a  little  later,  he  climbed  the  ladder  to  the  loft  with  won 
drous  news.  Dr.  Chilton  and  his  daughter  were  com 
ing — were  even  then  on  their  way  from  Warrenton. 

Much  of  the  early  morning  of  the  following  day  he 
spent  with  Rosalie  by  the  side  of  the  wounded  boy. 
Now  that  Dr.  Chilton  had  gone  on  in  search  of  the 
commanding  general,  hopeful  of  permission  to  take  his 
crippled  soldier  home,  the  vital  question  arose,  What 
was  to  become  of  Paul  ?  He  had  no  excuse  for  parole. 
He  had  not  been  grievously  wounded.  He  was  there 
of  his  own  volition,  undiscovered,  within  the  hostile 


106  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

lines,  and,  though  wearing  his  new  and  natty  uniform 
and  in  no  sense  a  spy,  still,  the  lot  of  Southern  prisoner 
in  Northern  hands  was  a  problem  yet  unsolved.  The 
South  might  well  refuse,  even  while  yet  exchanges  were 
possible,  to  ask  for  the  return  of  an  officer  as  incon 
spicuous  and  unlucky  as  he.  Shy  and  sensitive  as  ever, 
the  poor  lad  believed  he  had  lost  caste  among  his  fel 
lows,  and  that  if  captured  it  would  be  regarded  as  an 
act  of  self-surrender — a  well  planned  move  on  his  part 
to  escape  the  imminent  perils  of  the  war  now  opening 
in  good  earnest.  The  thought  was  maddening,  and 
Rosalie  Chilton  saw  it,  and  the  daring,  quick-witted  girl 
it  was  who  planned  the  escape  so  successfully  effected. 

Little  luggage  had  she  brought  with  her  on  that  hur 
ried  journey,  but,  soon  as  it  was  dusk,  she  doffed  the 
gown  and  skirt  she  wore — even  the  crinoline,  at  that 
period  of  our  national  life  regarded  as  indispensable  to 
the  wardrobe  of  the  gentlewoman — then  donned  a  soft 
wrapper,  and  ten  minutes  later,  Paul  Ladue,  shorn  of 
his  new  uniform,  was  attiring  himself  aloft  in  the  travel 
ing  dress  of  a  Virginia  belle.  He  well-nigh  ruined  the 
whole  plan — and  crinoline — by  putting  his  foot  through 
the  flimsy  cage  as  he  reached  the  stairway,  but  from 
the  floor  below  came  ominous  "  Hush-sh-sh!  "  in  Rosa 
lie's  tragic  tones,  and  she  shook  him  almost  savagely 
while  giving  some  finishing  touches  to  his  toilet.  "  How 
dare  you  be  so  careless  with  my  best  hoop-skirt,  sir? 
Don't  you  know  that's  almost  the  very  last  one  in  Vir 
ginia?"  Then,  duly  informed  as  to  the  paths  in  the 


A   BADGER   IN  THE   TOILS  107 

garden  and  the  exits  through  the  fence,  with  her  shawl 
over  his  head  and  a  prayer  on  her  trembling  lips  she 
sent  him  forth,  and  Jim  Ferguson,  officer  of  the  guard, 
bowed  to  her  representative  with  killing  grace — and  let 
him  go. 

Half  an  hour  later  Paul  had  shed  his  skirts  at  the 
stone  house,  had  had  a  whispered  word  with  Jennings 
— he  of  the  subsequent  demijohn — and,  in  some  old 
clothes  of  that  worthy  and  with  a  note  to  a  farmer 
friend  back  of  Groveton,  was  away  en  route  to  Hope- 
well.  By  nine  he  was  in  saddle,  with  a  horse  borrowed 
of  the  farmer  friend;  by  ten  he  had  learned  that  Judge 
Armistead  was  at  Gainesville,  having  reached  the 
Thornton  farm  too  late,  and  there  were  they  both — • 
judge  and  lieutenant — when  the  little  ambulance  train 
came  along  in  the  morning. 

Such  was  the  story  of  Ladue's  escape  from  within 
the  Union  lines.  But  the  story  that  agitated  at  least 
three  men  was  that  of  Rosalie  Chilton.  Why  should 
she  have  essayed  her  perilous  masquerade?  Why  should 
she  have  left  her  brother  and,  in  the  dress  of  a  Con 
federate  officer,  before  the  last  of  the  Yankees  were 
clear  of  the  plateau,  before  Stuart's  fellows  were  sure 
of  the  Sudley  road — why  should  she  have  dared  that 
night  dash  down  to  the  pike?  Even  in  his  battered  con 
dition  Fred  Benton  found  himself  pondering  over  the 
problem,  for  he  had  heard  her  father  urging  her  to  ex 
plain — had  heard  her  implore  that  father  not  to  press 
the  question  now. 


CHAPTER    IX 

ESCAPE   POSSIBLE 

It  is  by  no  means  a  far  cry  from  Manassas  to  Char- 
lottesville  as  one  takes  the  swift  flight  in  the  cosey  par 
lor  car  of  to-day,  shooting  over  stream  after  stream  that 
bears  historic  name,  and  smoothly  rounding  the  beauti 
ful  wooded  heights  that  loom  up  south  of  the  Rapidan, 
but  it  was  a  different  thing  in  '61,  bumping,  banging, 
jarring  behind  some  wheezy  old  wood-burner,  in  ram 
shackle  coach  or  open  platform  car,  yet  it  was  almost 
heavenly,  after  two  days'  tossing  and  tumbling  over  the 
ruts  of  the  Virginia  roadways  and  the  period  of  enforced 
rest  at  Warrenton  Junction — to  be  drawn  away  on  com 
paratively  even  keel,  with  light  and  air  and  sunshine 
and  the  fragrance  of  budding  orchard  and  bursting  leaf 
sweeping  through  the  open  windows  of  the  car  and 
gladdening  the  senses  of  the  half  score  of  invalids, 
homeward  bound  from  the  front.  Two  or  three,  like 
young  Chilton  and  our  captured  Badger,  had  been 
wounded  in  cavalry  clash  or  some  affair  of  outpost,  but 
mostly  were  they  fever  victims,  weak,  apathetic  and 
somnolent.  Yet  even  these  seemed  to  wake  and  stir 
and  brighten  as  Rosalie  Chilton  passed  among  them 
and  bent  and  spoke,  as  she  did  to  one  and  all. 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  109 

It  was  a  soft  spring  morning  that  saw  the  genial  doc 
tor's  little  party  entrained  at  the  Rappahannock.  Scores 
of  sympathetic  fellows  in  Confederate  gray  surrounded 
the  car  to  which  Lieutenant  Chilton  was  borne  and  into 
which  Fred  Benton,  his  arm  in  a  sling  and  his  head 
still  in  bandages,  was  carefully  guided.  For  reasons 
not  then  made  known  to  his  Yankee  patient,  the  doctor 
persisted  in  treating  his  case  as  far  more  serious  than 
conditions  seemed  to  warrant.  Constantly  he  strove 
to  impress  upon  Benton  the  necessity  of  lying  still  and 
speaking  as  little  as  possible.  Rosalie,  too,  was  forever 
holding  up  a  tapering  ringer  in  warning  and  pursing 
her  soft,  rosy  lips  in  very  significant  "  hush  "  when  he 
ventured  to  ask  questions  or  show  a  disposition  to  stir. 
Otherwise  she  had  but  little  to  say  to  him,  and  our 
wounded  Badger  boy  had  enjoyed  the  doubtful  bliss  of 
watching  her  hour  after  hour  during  the  long  wait  at 
the  Junction,  hanging  about  her  suffering  brother,  or 
with  softly  flushing  cheek,  talking  in  low,  eager  tone  to 
Paul  Ladue,  whose  melancholy  eyes  fairly  brightened 
and  whose  sallow,  solemn  face  beamed  with  something 
like  awakened  hope.  Except  when  she  was  thus  cheering 
him,  the  young  soldier's  depression  seemed  ever  pres 
ent.  He  hated  to  leave  Benton's  side.  He  dreaded  the 
reception  awaiting  him  at  his  regiment,  yet  was  fever 
ishly,  nervously  anxious  to  rejoin,  and  mad  for  oppor 
tunity  to  prove  himself  something  better  than  the  dolt 
they  probably  deemed  him.  It  had  been  settled  that  he 
should  leave  them  at  Gordonsville  and  return  to  the 


HO  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

front,  but  at  the  Rappahannock  his  own  colonel  had 
boarded  the  train  and,  noticing  at  once  how  ill  and  worn 
he  looked,  had  talked  with  him  kindly,  sympathetically, 
awhile,  had  had  brief  conference  with  Dr.  Chilton  and, 
leaving  Rosalie  surrounded  three  deep  by  young  gal 
lants,  late  of  the  university,  but  now  gay,  dashing, 
devil-may-care,  mustachioed  warriors  of  the  South,  had 
gone  off  to  see  their  division  general,  soon  to  be  so 
famous  as  a  corps  commander,  whose  tent  was  pitched 
near  by,  and  in  ten  minutes  they  were  both  there,  the 
one — tall,  martial,  and  with  his  long,  flowing  beard 
looking  more  like  a  hero  of  Norseland  or  warrior  of 
Aiminius  than  a  soldier  of  the  cavalier  South — destined 
to  live  long  in  song  and  story  and  to  return  to  the  love 
of  the  old  flag.  The  other,  a  type  of  chivalric  bearing 
and  breeding,  within  ten  weeks  fated  to 

"  find  a  soldier's  resting  place,  beneath  a  soldier's  blow," 

leading  his  heroic  regiment  at  Seven  Pines.  Paul's  sal 
low  face  flushed  at  sight  of  the  famous  soldier  who  had 
to  stoop  to  enter  the  low-roofed,  old-fashioned  car,  and 
it  was  good  to  see  how  quickly  the  chat  and  laughter 
hushed  in  the  group  of  young  officers,  how  they  faced 
their  honored  general  with  prompt  salute  or  uncovered 
heads.  Rosalie,  herself,  with  glistening  eyes  and  a  brave 
rush  of  color  in  her  soft  cheek,  came  forward  to  greet 
him,  fast  as  the  fashion  of  the  day  would  permit,  for  in 
that  narrow  aisle  the  balloon  skirt  was  vastly  a  hin 
drance.  Even  then,  before  the  wrinkles  and  crows'  feet 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  m 

had  dug  deep  about  the  outer  corners  of  Longstreet's 
eyes,  queer  little  lines  would  play  about  them  and  his 
bearded  lips  when  humorous  fancy  struck  him,  and 
kindly  humor  seemed  never  to  be  far  from  that  genial 
face  until  the  bitter  day  that  cost  him  Pickett's  grand 
and  devoted  division  in  Hancock's  front  at  Gettysburg. 
"  I  looked  to  see  you  in  uniform,  Miss  Chilton,"  said 
he,  "  and  I  have  yet  to  learn  by  what  authority  you 
have  discarded  the  gray.  And  this,  I  believe,  is  the 
young  gentleman  you  were  personating?  "  whereat  he 
shook  hands  very  kindly  with  the  shrinking  subaltern 
and  thought  to  himself  how  very  near  alike  they  were 
in  stature.  "  Colonel  Moore  tells  me  you  are  far  too 
ill  to  resume  duty  just  yet,  Mr.  Ladue,  so  I  am  going  to 
take  the  responsibility  of  bidding  you  go  back  to  Char- 
lottesville  for  a  week  of  Miss  Chilton's  care.  Ah,  Doc 
tor,  I'm  glad  to  see  you."  And  then  two  very  distin 
guished  Virginians  were  shaking  hands ;  but  all  Fred 
Benton  could  see  of  it  was  the  back  of  Longstreet's 
head  towering  above  his  fellows,  and  the  backs  of  sub 
ordinate  officers  clustered  about  him.  They  went  pres 
ently  and  spoke  with  young  Chilton  lying  on  his  mat 
tress  along  the  tops  of  the  seats,  then  came  straight  to 
the  lonely  officer — the  only  one  in  blue,  reclining  toward 
the  rear  end  of  the  long  vehicle,  the  object  of  much  si 
lent  curiosity  but  no  intrusion  whatsoever,  and  to  the 
prisoner  Longstreet  spoke  as  courteously  as  to  the 
princess  holding  her  little  court  in  mid  car,  bidding  him 
be  of  good  cheer. 


112  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

"  Dr.  Chilton  has  told  us,  sir,  of  your  protecting 
him  from  indignity  at  Centreville,  and  of  all  the  kind 
ness  you  did  him  that  night,  resulting  in  your  cap 
ture.  We  cannot  afford,"  and  here  the  blue-gray  eyes 
twinkled  and  the  half-hidden  lips  twitched  whimsically, 
"  to  let  so  good  a  soldier  get  right  back  to  business. 
Neither  can  we  send  so  chivalric  a  foe  to  Libby — at 
least  so  long  as  he  is  wounded  as  you  are.  There 
fore,  Dr.  Chilton,  you  will  see  to  his  having  hospital 
accommodations,  and  now,  we  must  have  a  suitable 
guard."  And  here  the  tall  general  straightened  up, 
studied  earnestly  the  circle  of  soldier  faces  about  him 
until  the  twinkling  eyes  rested  on  the  very  sweet  and 
rosy  features  of  the  one  damsel  present.  Then  briefly 
and  in  official  tone,  he  finished.  "  Miss  Chilton,  I  ap 
point  you,  until  further  orders,  custodian  of  Lieutenant 
and  Aide-de-Camp  Benton,  of  the  Federal  Army." 

Verily,  as  Benton  wrote  at  the  time,  these  were  the 
halcyon  days  of  the  war,  before  ever  it  had  become  the 
grim  and  deadly  earnest  they  were  to  know  so  bitterly 
and  so  very  soon.  The  car  was  cleared  of  all  save  pas 
sengers,  the  train  was  started  before  he  could  find  words 
with  which  to  thank  the  courtly  Southern  general,  and 
the  doctor,  bending  over  him,  was  saying,  "  You  must 
not  discredit  my  repoht,  suh,  by  looking  so  much  alive 
as  you  do  at  this  moment.  I  represented  your  case, 
suh,  as  one  requiring  constant  attention,  otherwise  you 
might  have  had  to  go  to  Richmond." 

And  so  for  a  day  or  two  these  pleasantries — these 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  113 

courtesies  of  war  prevailed.  Then  all  of  Johnston's  men 
remaining  north  of  the  Rappahannock  came  drifting  in 
before  a  new  forward  move  of  the  Union  force  along 
the  railway.  Howard's  strong  division  of  Sumner's 
Corps  swept  out  in  reconnaissance,  even  as  the  bulk  of 
McClellan's  army  was  being  directed  on  Alexandria  for 
the  now  inevitable  swing  to  the  Peninsula  between  the 
York  and  the  James — full  details  of  the  gathering  of 
every  kind  of  bay  and  river  craft  reaching  Johnston 
quite  as  speedily  as  they  did  New  York.  So  that  skilled 
soldier  withdrew  still  further  to  the  line  of  the  Rapidan 
where  he  could  be  nearer  Richmond  in  case  of  need. 

Then  when  Banks  should  have  come  down  from  the 
Shenandoah  and  "covered"  Washington,  up  sprang  that 
restless,  watchful,  prayerful  Virginia  leader,  Jackson, 
and  so  stirred  the  situation  in  the  valley  that  Banks  and 
his  men  had  to  hurry  back  through  the  mountain  passes, 
and  further  delays  and  complications  arose  before  April 
set  in  and  McClellan  could  sail  for  Fortress  Monroe, 
and  in  all  the  bustle  and  excitement,  the  rumors  flying 
hither  and  yon,  the  marching  to  and  fro  of  cavalry  and 
fleet-footed  infantry,  it  happened  that  for  full  a  fortnight 
Dr.  Chilton  and  his  patients,  nurse,  guard  and  all,  had 
settled  down  to  something  like  peace  and  physical  com 
fort  at  cosey,  homelike  old  Charlottesville,  and  no  man 
sought  seriously  to  hamper  or  disturb  them.  From 
Gainesville  Dr.  Chilton  had  penned  a  letter  to  be  sent 
through  the  lines,  notifying  the  commanding  general  of 
the  Union  force  along  Bull  Run  of  Benton's  capture 
8 


114  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

after  gallant  effort  to  cut  his  way  through,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  was  quite  painfully  though  not  dangerously 
wounded — that  he  was  in  good  hands  and  would  be 
well  cared  for,  and  this  news — a  great  relief — was 
promptly  transmitted  to  Fred's  general  and  by  him 
telegraphed  to  the  far  Western  home.  The  Squire  was 
both  proud  and  distressed,  but  Elinor,  his  fair  daughter, 
never  dreaming  that  Paul  Ladue  was  one  of  the  little 
corps  of  faithful  friends  and  attendants,  could  find  no 
comfort  whatsoever.  What  would  she  have  thought 
could  her  straining  eyes  have  pierced  the  intervening 
mountain  ranges,  the  long  sweep  of  rolling  hills  beyond 
the  Ohio,  the  wooded  flats  and  boundless  prairies,  and 
peeped  in  from  the  shores  of  Michigan  upon  that  vine- 
covered  trellis,  among  the  blossoms  and  buds  now 
bursting  into  view  on  every  side  and  rejoicing  in  the 
warm  April  sunshine  of  far  Virginia? 

On  a  well-made  stretcher  lay  the  central  figure  of 
household  and  local  interest,  Lieutenant  Jack  Chilton, 
slowly  but  surely  mending  of  his  serious  wounds  and 
gaining  health,  strength,  and  spirits  with  every  day. 
And  who  wouldn't  under  similar  influences? — for  two 
fair  young  daughters  of  the  old  commonwealth  vied 
with  each  other  in  assiduous  effort  to  "  entertain  "  the 
trooper  invalid — two  bonny,  winsome  lassies  in  their 
teens,  both  brimming  over  with  hero  worship  and  en 
thusiastic  faith  and  love  for  every  Virginian  to  be  found 
afield.  Lovely  were  they  both,  these  cousins  of  the 
blood,  and  most  carefully  had  they  been  chosen  for  this 


ESCAPE  POSSIBLE  115 

special  duty  by  their  acknowledged  leader,  chief  of  the 
little  clan  of  kinswomen  that  dwelt  among  the  wooded 
hills  of  Albemarle  and  Fluvanna.  Brilliant,  beautiful 
and  daring,  who  of  their  brave  Order  could  lay  claim  to 
leadership  so  long  as  Rosalie  cared  to  hold  it?  They 
followed  and  obeyed  her  eagerly,  loyally,  though  in 
years  she  was  but  eighteen,  and  five,  at  least,  of  the 
Sacred  Band  were  her  seniors.  Ever  since  the  days  of 
short  dresses,  braids  and  pinafores,  she  had  been  domi 
nant  among  them,  fearless  in  act  and  speech — a  little 
tyrant  of  the  fireside,  ruling  her  father  almost  as  with 
a  rod  of  iron,  domineering  over  the  colored  retinue  of 
the  kitchen,  stable  and  household,  and  alternately  laugh 
ing,  coaxing,  storming  and  wheedling  out  of  every  ef 
fort  at  restraint,  or  self-assertion,  the  gentle-mannered 
Virginia  dame — the  doctor's  only  sister — who,  almost 
ever  since  the  year  of  Rosalie's  birth,  had  striven  to  sup 
ply  the  place  of  the  sweet  young  mother,  who  drooped 
and  died  before  her  babe  had  learned  to  lisp  the  word 
she  so  longed  to  hear.  Tomboy  had  they  called  Rosalie 
at  ten,  for  she  could  ride  any  horse  within  miles  of 
Charlottesville,  and  preferred  walking  stilts,  flying  kites 
or  running  races  to  the  customary  allurements  of  girl 
hood.  She  had  one  envy,  one  champion,  one  idol — her 
brother,  barely  two  years  her  senior — and  apparently  but 
one  sorrow — that  she  could  not  do  everything  that  Jack 
could,  and  not  for  lack  of  trying. 

Then  as  they  both  grew  older,  and  other  girls'  brothers 
began  showing  hitherto  unsuspected  fondness  for  Jack's 


116  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

society,  and  coming  to  see  him  at  all  hours  of  the  day, 
and  other  girls  themselves  began  making  eyes  at  Jack, 
her  indifference  to  the  first  and  her  fury  at  the  second 
were  comical  to  see.  Jack,  for  his  part,  took  it  not 
amiss  that  Kate  Falconer  and  Georgia  Scott  and  Belle 
Brinton  should  show  appreciation  of  his  physical  gifts 
and  graces,  and  could  not  understand  it  in  Rosalie  that 
she  skould  become  so  suddenly  discursive  about  Kate's 
freckles  and  red  hair,  Georgia's  dumpy  figure,  and 
Belle's  multitudinous  affectations.  She  was  forever 
finding  excuse  to  ride  over  to  the  Varsity  after  Jack's 
matriculation — not,  as  other  girls  declared,  that  she 
might  see  and  be  seen  by  other  youths,  but  simply  from 
longing  for  Jack — and  then,  when  the  war  came  on  and 
Virginia  sprang  to  arms  and  Jack  to  saddle  and  his 
first  commission  in  Jeb  Stuart's  famous  First  Cavalry, 
she  was  all  afire  with  fervor  and  patriotism  on  the  one 
hand  and  of  mad  jealousy  of  Maud  Pelham  on  the  other, 
for  on  Maud  had  Jack  cast  favoring  eyes. 

And  so,  when  she  brought  her  brother  home  to  nurse 
and  pet  and  coddle  to  her  heart's  content,  while  she  was 
all  soothing  sweetness  on  the  side  that  showed  to  him, 
she  fairly  bristled  on  the  other — that  which  all  well- 
favored  feminine  callers,  inquirers  and  friends  must 
needs  encounter  when  they  came  and  asked  to  see  him. 
She  established  a  regular  roster  book  and  told  off  the 
list  of  the  Sacred  Band, — her  henchwomen,  into  four 
"  reliefs  "  of  two  girls  each — one  relief  only  to  be  on 
duty  each  day  and  no  outsiders  to  be  admitted.  Need- 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  117 

less  to  say  Maud  Pelham  was  not  of  the  elect,  and  Jack 
speedily  showed  he  wished  it  were  otherwise. 

And  so  this  sweet  April  morning,  with  a  soft,  lan 
guorous  air  playing  about  the  wooded,  sun-kissed 
heights,  she  had  two  such  awfully  nice  young  girls  to 
cheer  him,  while  she  herself  turned  dutifully  to  another 
wounded  officer,  a  youth  in  dark  blue  and  gold  who  had 
been  for  over  an  hour  a  silent  watcher  of  the  merriment 
about  Chilton's  cot,  while  he,  Fred  Benton,  sat  lonely 
and  longing  to  get  far  away. 

It  was  not  that  they  were  cold,  constrained  or  incon 
siderate  when  speaking  to  him,  but,  the  doctor  had  to 
be  much  away  now;  Lieutenant  Jack  was  always  sur 
rounded  by  his  fair  bodyguard;  the  one  man  Benton 
loved,  his  boon  companion  Paul,  had  gone  to  rejoin  his 
regiment,  and  the  one  woman  who  could  have  made 
Benton's  stay  a  world  of  strange,  sweet,  witching  de 
light  was  beginning  day  after  day  to  show  less  inclina 
tion  to  approach  him  at  all.  A  fortnight  of  watching 
that  beautiful  dark  face,  that  slender,  willowy  form,  and 
listening  to  that  silvery  voice — alternately  pleading,  ca 
joling,  caressing,  commanding,  while  to  him  it  was  only 
coldly  courteous — had  done  its  work.  Fred  Benton  was 
mending  in  body,  but  not  in  mind,  for  doubly  now  was 
he  a  prisoner. 

And  this  fair  April  morning  the  news  he  heard  had 
made  him  all  the  more  restless  and  troubled.  The  Feder 
als  were  landing  in  force  and  marching  on  Yorktown, 
and  Longstreet's  whole  command  had  been  sent  away, 


118  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

with  others,  to  meet  them.  He  doubted  not  that  his 
old  comrades  of  McDowell's  Corps  would  be  in  action 
ere  ever  he  could  reach  them,  and  the  thought  drove 
his  pulses  up  to  fever  heat  again,  and  Rosalie  Chilton, 
without  seeming  to  look,  saw  it  in  the  flush  of  his  anx 
ious  face,  and  came  to  him  instanter. 

"  You  will  be  having  fever  again,  Mr.  Benton,"  said 
she, and  the  cool,  white  hand  that  at  first  had  arranged  the 
bandages  of  his  head  and  arm,  or  tested  his  pulses  with 
out  a  sign  of  hesitancy,  seemed  now  to  falter  and  shrink 
as  though  it  had  to  be  forced  to  an  unwilling  task.  It 
stung  Benton  sore,  for, man-like,  he  could  read  only  one 
interpretation.  How  different  had  she  been  with  Ladue 
when,  for  three  days,  he  was  feverish  and  headachy. 
Why,  she  had  bathed  his  hot  forehead  time  and  again 
within  an  hour,  and  smoothed  back  his  rumpled  hair, 
and  she  could  hardly  have  treated  her  own  brother  more 
affectionately.  Once — Fred  could  almost  swear  to  it — 
Paul  had  seized  and  kissed  her  pretty  hand,  a  thing  that, 
were  he  to  attempt,  his  instinct  told  him  it  would  be  furi 
ously  resented  and  not  entirely  because  he  was  a  Yan 
kee.  With  shame  and  contrition  did  Benton  admit  to 
himself  that  he  was  now  not  sorry  to  see  Paul  go,  yet 
what  would  he  not  give  to  recall  him? 

For  several  days  after  his  capture  it  had  been  Ben- 
ton's  belief  that  Paul  was  concealed  in  the  room  Rosalie 
declared  hers  at  the  Henry  house — the  room  sacred  to 
her  stricken  brother— and  not  until  after  their  coming 
to  Charlottesville  was  he  undeceived.  There,  one  after- 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  119 

noon,  the  week  before  he  went  away,  the  young  Con 
federate  was  moved  to  refer  to  the  matter  mainly  by 
seeing  that  it  was  a  subject  of  which  Benton  fought  shy. 

"  I  had  been  with  Miss  Chilton  and  poor  Jack  some 
hours  that  morning,"  said  he,  "  for  the  guard  never 
came  in  the  front  part  of  the  house,  but  she  had  ordered 
me  to  go  and  get  some  sleep  in  the  afternoon,  it  having 
been  fully  determined  that  I  should  make  the  attempt 
to  escape  that  night.  Lying  there  in  a  sort  of  cat  nap 
toward  five  o'clock,  I  heard  the  soldiers  speak  your 
name  and  could  not  resist  the  longing  to  see  you.  Then 
when  you  turned  back  I  knew  you  had  come  to  search 
and  had  plenty  of  time  to  flatten  out  between  the  joists 
and  pull  my  section  of  the  floor  over  me.  You  stamped 
on  my  nose  with  your  spurred  boot-heel,  Fred,  and  I 
never  winced." 

So  that  ghost  was  laid,  at  least  as  far  as  Rosalie  was 
concerned!  But  how  about  the  other — the  far  more  sig 
nificant  and  now  mysterious  freak  of  clothing  herself  in 
Paul's  uniform  and  slipping  through  the  darkness  of 
night  to  the  stone  house?  For  whose  sake — for  what 
purpose — had  she  so  carefully  disguised,  yet  recklessly 
exposed,  herself?  Not  even  her  father  had  been  told  as 
yet.  He  had  so  confided  to  Benton  only  a  day  or  two 
after  Paul's  departure,  and  now,  with  her  growing  shy 
ness,  aversion,  or  whatever  it  might  be  toward  him,  little 
likelihood  was  there,  thought  Benton,  of  his  learning 
the  secret  from  her  lips,  and  that,  too,  when  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  that  he  must  know. 


120  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Every  day  of  late,  for  hours,  he  could  pace  up  and 
down  the  pretty,  homelike  garden,  listening  to  the  low 
chatter  in  the  arbor,  the  tinkle  of  guitar,  the  soft  bub 
bling  laughter  or  the  murmur  of  reading  aloud  when 
"  Jack's  girls  " — Rosalie's  approved — were  there.  What 
comical  little  ceremonies  had  there  been  in  the  succes 
sive  presentation  of  their  Yankee  captive  to  these  their 
Virginia  neighbors.  Of  course  the  story  of  all  his  kind 
ness  to  the  doctor  had  been  told,  otherwise  his  presence 
would  have  been  insupportable.  But  some  one  had  said 
he  was  very  handsome,  very  silent,  very  interesting,  and 
that  he  couldn't  keep  his  big  blue  eyes  off  Rosalie,  and 
so  there  was  much  curiosity  mingling  with  the  stately 
little  curtseys  each  in  turn  accorded  him.  Hour  after 
hour  as  they  watched  they  could  see  that  his  eyes  were 
ever  following  Rosalie,  coming  and  going,  for  she  had 
assumed  all  house-keeping  cares  of  late,  and  was  forever 
busy  about  the  homestead.  Yet,  as  the  evening  shad 
ows  grew  long  and  the  sun  began  to  sink,  she  was  sure 
to  appear  with  Pomp  and  Peter  to  bear  the  lieutenant, 
stretcher  and  all,  to  his  bedroom,  and  at  the  same  time 
Prisoner  Benton  was  bidden  co  return  to  his  delightful 
cell,  overlooking  the  garden  and  giving  him  views  of  the 
neighborhood  denied  him  when  below  stairs. 

And  this  April  evening  as,  obediently,  he  returned  to 
his  quarters  and  sat  at  the  window  awaiting  the  doctor's 
coming  to  look  at  his  arm  before  tea-time,  his  eyes  were 
attracted  by  the  sight  of  a  certain  broad-brimmed  drab 
felt  hat  that  he  had  noted  more  than  once  before  that 


ESCAPE   POSSIBLE  121 

day,  passing  along  the  fence  at  the  side  of  the  house 
where  the  hedge  was  so  thick  and  high  that,  only  at  the 
gateway,  now  nearly  boarded  up,  could  it  be  seen  from 
the  arbor  at  all.  Now,  from  the  commanding  height 
of  the  chamber  window,  Fred  Benton  saw  distinctly  not 
only  the  hat,  but  much  of  the  form  and  some  of  the  face 
beneath  it,  and  face  and  form  were  those  of  a  young 
and  slender  girl.  Even  while  he  was  wondering  why 
a  young  lady  should  be  patrolling  that  side  street  so 
close  to  the  garden  wall,  she  lifted  up  her  eyes — tilting 
back  the  hat — and  looked  full  at  the  captive  Yankee;  then 
stopped  short,  glanced  hastily  about  her;  took  from  the 
bosom  of  her  gown  a  little  white  note;  held  it  high 
that  he  should  see  it;  turned  and  walked  back  to  the 
gateway.  One  moment  she  held  her  note  aloft  again, 
then  lowered  her  hand  as  though  working  vigorously 
at  the  bricks,  and  when  a  second  time  she  uplifted  the 
hand  the  note  was  gone.  Another  moment  and — so 
was  she.  Obviously,  however,  that  girl  wished  him  to 
mark  the  spot,  then  come  down  and  get  that  note. 

Not  until  the  following  morning  came  there  oppor 
tunity.  Then,  while  Jack  in  his  latticed,  vine-covered 
arbor  was  listening  to  the  chatter  of  the  new  relief  of  his 
fair  bodyguard,  Benton  stepped  quickly  to  the  gateway, 
and,  after  brief  search,  hauled  aside  a  loose  brick  or  two 
and  found  a  tiny  billet  folded  three-cornered,  that  when 
opened  said: 

"  Be  alert.  Orders  coming  send  you  to  Libby.  Watch  every  morn 
ing  and  evening  for  further  warning.  Escape  possible. 


CHAPTER    X 

LIBBY    OR    LIBERTY 

Then  came  three  days  of  rain,  as  rain  it  will — sheets 
and  torrents — in  the  sweet  springtide  in  old  Virginia. 
And  while  McClellan's  men  were  wallowing  in  the  mud 
of  the  lower  Peninsula,  held  by  the  elements,  not  by  the 
enemy — for  Magruder's  little  force  at  Yorktown  could 
not  have  stopped  two  divisions  when  led  by  a  later  day 
general  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — here  about  Char- 
lottesville  the  wooded  heights  were  draped  in  filmy  mist, 
the  mountain  streams  ran  bank  full,  and  Jack  Chilton's 
bodyguard  came  on  duty  with  blooming,  rain-kissed 
cheeks,  emerging  from  waterproof  hoods  and  mantles 
that,  like  the  antique  coaches,  coachmen  and  horses  that 
brought  them,  were  beginning  to  show  many  a  pathetic 
sign  of  wear  and  tear.  The  arbor  and  the  garden  were 
perforce  deserted,  and  Jack  held  court  in  the  roomy 
old  hall,  while  the  doctor  made  his  rounds  heedless  of 
weather  or  accounts  alike  unsettled.  Scattered  over  a 
range  of  country  within  twenty-five  miles  radius  of  his 
office  were  the  homesteads  of  some  hundreds  of  fami 
lies,  not  one  of  whom  could  later  recall  that  "  endurin* 
ob  de  wah  "  he  ever  presented  a  bill  or  neglected  a  case. 
And,  while  he  was  ministering  abroad,  it  fell  to  Rosa- 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  123 

lie's  lot  to  look  after  everything  and  everybody  at  home 
— invalided  aunt,  wounded  brother,  unbalanced  domes 
tics,  already  beginning1  to  prate  of  life  and  luxury 
without  work  and  freedom  without  knowledge,  and  last, 
yet  not  least,  that  now  fast-mending  prisoner  in  the 
second  floor  back  room,  where  he  was  becoming  rude 
enough  to  prefer  to  stay,  sit  by  the  window  and  rock 
and  read  the  old  masters  beloved  of  the  South — Scott, 
Sims  and  Cooper — and  the  speeches  of  the  famous  Vir 
ginian  whose  beautiful  Monticello  gleamed  white  among 
the  grand  old  forest  trees  so  close  at  hand,  and  whose 
broadly  democratic  theories,  instilled  in  the  immature 
minds  of  the  student  body,  had  well-nigh  wrecked  at  its 
very  launching  the  dearest  project  of  his  declining  years. 
Rosalie,  secretly  disturbed  about  her  captive,  as  the 
girls  called  him,  professed  to  think  Mr.  Benton  ought 
to  be  glad  to  come  down-stairs  and  watch  Brother  Jack 
being  worshipped — "  It  ought  to  make  any  man  better 
to  see  how  Virginia  girls  honor  a  Virginia  soldier 
stricken  while  battling  for  his  native  State."  Bull  Run 
victims  were  few  and  far  between  now — either  were  they 
dead  or  again  on  duty — and  Virginia  girls  by  the  hundred 
were  longing  to  lavish  smiles  and  sweetness  and  sooth 
ing  potions,  all  in  one,  on  Virginia  lads  shot  or  sabred 
in  their  defence.  Time  was  soon,  and  far  too  soon,  to 
come  when  every  house  and  every  room  should  be  filled 
with  the  sore  stricken,  and  there  could  be  nowhere  near 
enough  girls  to  go  around ;  but  just  now,  in  April,  Char- 
lottesville  had  but  three  wounded  Southrons  and  one 


124  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Yank,"  and  to  the  foremost  of  these  Southrons  all 
but  a  corps  d? elite  of  Miss  Chilton's  choosing  were  denied 
admission.  As  to  the  Yank,  no  one  of  their  number 
dare  let  another  know  how  gladly  would  her  charity 
have  been  extended — even  to  him.  Of  course,  however, 
that  was  merely  through  curiosity. 

No.  Fred  Benton  was  chafing,  restless  and  unhappy, 
and,  even  now  that  Paul  was  gone,  again  suffering  the 
pangs  of  jealousy.  A  tall  Confederate  officer,  a  very 
distinguished  looking  major  of  the  staff,  had  called 
thrice  in  two  days,  and  had  had  long  conversation  with 
the  little  lady  of  the  house — one,  in  fact,  behind  closed 
doors  after  Jack  had  been  "  toted  "  to  his  room.  Fred 
heard  the  colored  house  of  commons  discussing  the  pros 
and  cons  as  to  that  indication,  and  in  like  manner  ascer 
tained  that  the  officer  was  Major  Lounsberry — long  a 
resident  of  Albemarle  and  now  of  the  staff — the  Inspec 
tor's  Department  of  the  Confederate  Army,  and  Fred 
could  have  sworn  his  pretty  jailor  was  in  tears  when 
she  came  hurrying  up  from  one  interview,  for  he  went 
out  in  hopes  of  a  word  with  her,  but  she  saw  or  sus 
pected  and  darted  to  her  room  without  heeding  his 
hail.  Morning  and  evening  both  had  he  watched  for 
the  return  of  the  lady  of  the  broad-brimmed  felt,  but  the 
rain  or  something  had  been  too  much  for  her,  and  she 
failed  to  reappear.  Major  Lounsberry's  deep  voice, 
however,  was  heard  in  the  broad  lower  hall  three  hours 
after  his  long  afternoon  interview  with  Miss  Chilton, 
and  the  doctor  came  briskly  forth  from  his  study  to 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  125 

greet  and  welcome  the  distinguished  representative  of 
the  war  office — the  son  of  an  old  familiar  friend.  There 
was  good  news  from  Yorktown,  it  seems,  and  small 
Pomp  brought  it  in  with  a  little  pitcher  of  cool  butter 
milk  and  some  "  cohn  pone  "  for  Marse  Benton — "  De 
Yankees  done  got  licked  agin  down  by  Yohktown." 
"  Marse  Lounsberry  "  had  so  told  the  doctor,  and  Fred 
went  down  to  Jack's  room,  his  arm  still  slung,  to  wish 
him  good-night  and  learn  what  he  knew,  and  Rosalie 
departed  and  left  them  to  each  other,  and  it  happened 
that  as  the  doctor  was  ushering  his  martial  visitor  from 
his  study  to  the  door  full  fifteen  minutes  later,  and  long 
before  Benton's  usual  hour  for  retiring,  the  door  to 
Jack's  room  opened  and  the  Yankee  lieutenant  came 
forth,  looking  very  tall,  erect  and  by  no  means  broken 
down. 

The  doctor  gave  a  start — an  unmistakable  glance  of 
warning.  A  crouching  bundle  of  femininity  near  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  out  of  Lounsberry's  sight  but  plainly 
in  Benton's  view,  frantically  signalled  with  both  impetu 
ous  hands — with  wild  eyes  and  wide-opening  mouth 
gasping  dismay — the  imperious  order  to  go  back  at 
once,  but  obtusely  Benton  stood  his  ground  and  faced, 
half  defiantly,  this  new  visitor,  who  in  turn  stopped  short 
and  calmly,  even  somewhat  insolently,  surveyed  him. 
The  major  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Lieutenant  Benton,  I  presume,"  said  he,  "  and  look 
ing  vastly  better  than  I  had  been  led  to — hope/'  How 
near  he  there  came  to  saying  "  believe  "! 


126  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

"  Looking  quite  well,  my  dear  major,"  hastily  inter 
posed  the  doctor,  "  yet,  I  assure  you,  but  the  ghost  of  the 
fine  young  fellow  who  rescued  me  that  night  at  Centre- 
ville.  It  will  be  months  before  he  can  handle  a  sabre 
again." 

"  How  about  a  pen?  "  asked  Lounsberry,  significantly, 
his  eyes  burning  into  Benton's  gaze  as  though  striving 
to  read  his  innermost  thoughts. 

"  Mr.  Benton  has  certainly  managed  to  write  three 
home  letters — left-handed,"  answered  Dr.  Chilton, 
speaking  for  his  captive  guest,  yet  glancing  nervously 
toward  him.  "  They  were  duly  forwarded  to  Richmond 
to  be  censored.  Was  it  there  you  saw  them,  Major 
Lounsberry?  " 

"  I  had  reference  to  possibilities,  Doctor,  though  I  am 
not  unacquainted  with  the  lieutenant's  left  hand-writ 
ing.  It  would  be  injudicious,  for  instance,  not  to  say 
ungrateful  to  those  who  have  shielded  him,  were  he  to 
answer  the  letter  he  found  at  the  old  side  gate  of  the 
garden,  Monday  evening!  " 

The  hot  blood  leaped  to  Benton's  face.  Lounsberry 
had  spoken  with  the  cool  deliberation  of  one  absolutely 
sure  of  his  ground.  The  doctor  turned  and  stood  gaz 
ing  at  his  guest  as  though  expecting  him  promptly  to 
deny  the  imputation.  From  the  stairway  came  the  sound 
of  faint  rustle  as  though  Rosalie  shrank  still  further 
away,  and  Benton  felt,  rather  than  saw — for  under  the 
major's  stern,  relentless,  searching  gaze  he  dare  not 
look  in  the  lead  of  his  heart — that  her  eyes  were  fixed 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  127 

upon  him  in  mingled  scrutiny  and  indignation.  The 
silence  was  painful  and  Benton  broke  it. 

"  There  was  nothing  new  in  the  note,  Doctor,"  said 
he,  purposely  ignoring  the  staff  officer.  "  It  was  to  tell 
me — what  I  already  suspected  and,  since  this  gentle 
man's  arrival,  have  felt  sure  of — that  I  was  to  be 
sent  to  Richmond.  Do  not  let  it  worry  you.  I 
have  been  preparing  for  it,  and  now  I  am  quite  ready 
to  go." 

For  the  life  of  him  as  the  sentence  closed  he  could  not 
avoid  shooting  one  swift  glance  at  the  stairway  to  note 
the  effect  of  his  words.  The  major  saw,  turned  and 
finding  that  from  where  he  stood  the  landing  and 
stairway  were  hidden  from  view,  stepped  quickly  for 
ward.  Benton  instantly  did  the  same,  and  almost  breast 
to  breast  they  met  there  in  the  middle  of  the  room — the 
blue  and  the  gray — the  fire  flashing  in  the  eyes  of  each. 
There  was  the  sound  of  whisking  drapery,  a  soft  swish 
along  stair  and  balcony  rail,  and  in  an  instant  Rosalie 
had  darted  to  the  landing  and  out  of  sight.  A  half  smile, 
contemptuous  and  cutting,  played  about  the  Confeder 
ate's  lips.  He  gave  no  sign  whatever  that  he  had 
heard.  He  addressed  himself  to  Benton  : 

"  I  presume  you  have  burned  that  note,  sir,  and  there 
fore  have  nothing  with  which  to  back  your  statement, 
but  I  take  you  at  your  word.  You  are  ready  to  go,  you 
say;  be  ready  to  start  then  at  six  in  the  morning." 

"My  dear  Major!"  broke  in  Dr.  Chilton.  "Surely 
you " 


128  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Those  are  my  orders,  doctor.  I  have  no  volition/' 
answered  Lounsberry,  coldly.  "  And  now  if  I  may  say 
adieu  to  Jack  I'll  leave  you  to  such  preparation  as  may 
be  necessary.  The  guard  will  call  for  Mr.  Benton  at 
six.  I  go  myself  to  Gordonsville  to-night." 

With  that  Major  Lounsberry  turned  haughtily — there 
is  no  other  word  for  it — away,  as  though  the  possibility 
of  further  talk  with  a  Federal  prisoner  was  something 
intolerable  to  an  officer  of  his  rank  and  station.  The 
doctor,  stunned  and  silent,  looked  helplessly  from  one 
to  the  other,  and  again  it  was  Benton  who  spoke  a  re 
assuring  word.  Cordially  he  held  forth  his  one  free 
hand. 

"  It's  all  right,  Doctor,"  said  he.  "  You  and  Miss 
Chilton  have  pulled  me  round  famously.  I  can  stand 
Libby  diet  now  just  as  well  as  anybody,  and  I'm  betting 
on  speedy  exchange.  Then — our  fellows  will  be  do 
ing  something  now,"  he  added,  with  significant  smile. 
"  Who  knows  but  they  may  gather  in  game  as  big  as 
that!"  with  a  laughing  nod  toward  the  resplendent 
major.  "  Or,  is  he,  like  so  many  of  our  staff,  only  for 
duty  at  the  rear?"  And  Benton  meant  that  Louns 
berry  should  hear,  and  hear  he  did  and  flushed  red 
under  the  taunt. 

"  Do  not  judge  our  methods  by  the  little  you  know 
of  yours,  Mr.  Benton,"  he  retorted,  albeit  with  admir 
able  self-control.  Then,  as  though  again  determined  to 
ignore  the  Northerner,  "  May  I  be  permitted  a  word 
with  Lieutenant  Chilton,  Doctor? "  a  question  which 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  129 

seemed  to  recall  the  doctor  to  himself  and  left  Benton 
to  his  own  devices.  Without  another  glance  at  the  un 
welcome  visitor,  the  latter  turned  and  ascended  the 
stairs  to  the  second  story,  and  there,  in  the  dim  light  of 
a  night  lamp,  by  the  eastward  window,  stood  the  girl 
he  longed  to  see  and  speak  with,  and  she  who  had 
avoided,  now  came  half  timidly  forward  as  though  to 
meet  him. 

The  broad  hallway  of  the  lower  story,  extending  from 
the  colonnaded  portico  in  front  to  the  wide  veranda  in 
rear,  was  virtually  repeated  aloft  by  as  broad  a  "  land 
ing  "  from  which  opened  four  bedrooms  in  the  main 
building  and  passageways  leading  to  the  wings.  India 
matting  covered  the  floor.  Couches,  divans  and  easy 
reclining  chairs  were  scattered  about.  Several  portraits 
in  oil  of  famous  connections  of  the  family — Cabell,Custis 
or  Stuart — and  many  a  good  engraving  hung  about  the 
walls.  Two  windows,  heavily  curtained,  opened  to  the 
east;  two  others,  draped  in  dimity,  looked  out  over  the 
fine  old-fashioned  garden,  over  a  few  Virginia  home 
steads  peeping  from  the  midst  of  oaks  and  maples,  with 
the  roofs  and  cupola  of  the  university  in  the  distance, 
and  beyond  them  the  tumbling  outline  of  the  Ragged 
Mountains,  rising  against  the  backbone  barrier  to  the 
great  valley,  the  beautiful  Blue  Ridge.  It  was  away 
from  the  neighborhood  of  her  aunt's  door  and  her  own, 
and  close  to  the  westward  windows  that  Rosalie  Chilton 
silently  led  her  captive  soldier,  and  then  turned,  her 
face  pale  and  sorrow  stricken,  her  great  dark  eyes  fill- 


130  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

ing  with  unshed  tears.  For  days  she  had  been  distant, 
repellent  almost,  in  manner  that  relented  not  one  whit 
even  when  she  saw  it  stung  and  grieved  him.  To 
night  she  seemed  suddenly  to  have  determined  on  mak 
ing  amends.  Without,  the  skies  had  been  covered  with 
heavily  charged  masses  of  clouds  that  poured  their  tor 
rents  on  the  thirsting  earth,  but  now  a  vigorous  young 
moon  was  peeping  through  the  thinning  veil  and  throw 
ing  a  vague,  ghostly  light  upon  garden,  village  street 
and  vine-clad  arbor  and  tracing  marvellous  pattern  of 
fretwork  on  the  India  malting.  Within,  just  in  like 
manner,  Rosalie's  almost  perfect  face  had  been  dark 
ened  by  clouds  Fred  could  neither  banish  nor  fathom, 
but  now  a  new,  soft,  tender  light  seemed  shimmering 
through.  What  could  it  mean?  he  asked,  with  beating 
heart,  for  there  was  a  moment  in  which  neither  spoke. 

"  I  have  a  confession  to  make,  Mr.  Benton,"  said  she, 
at  length.  "  Do  you  think — it's  easy  for  a  girl  to  say — 
she's  glad  to  find  that  she  was  wrong?  " 

"  Something  has  seemed  to  me  very  wrong  of  late," 
answered  Benton,  "  so  much  so  I  was  glad  to  get  away 
on  any  terms,  even  to  Libby.  For  what  have  I  been 
punished?  " 

"  I  shall  tell  you — frankly,"  she  answered,  standing 
with  downcast  eyes  before  him,  her  white  hands  loosely 
clasping.  "  Do  you  know,  I  thought — I  heard — that 
you  were  plotting  with  people  outside  to  escape,  and, 
father  being  responsible  for  you,  it  seemed  ungrateful 
— indeed  dishonorable " 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  131 

"  But  what  on  earth  have  I  said  or  done  to  warrant 
the  belief?  I  have  talked  with  no  one,  communicated 
with  no  one,  except  that,  after  I  had  noted  your  cold 
and  distant  manner,  there  came  this  little  unsigned  note, 
saying  that  I  was  to  be  sent  to  Richmond.  I  have  never 
answered  it.  I  haven't  an  idea  who  sent  it." 

"  But  the  note "  and  now  she  looked  up  eagerly, 

"  you  have  it— still?  " 

"  Burned  it  to  ashes  the  hour  it  came ! "  he  an 
swered. 

"  But  you  saw  who  brought  it — or  who  left  it?  " 

"  I  saw — ,"  he  impulsively  began,  then  stopped  short. 
What  right  had  he,  a  Union  soldier,  to  give  information 
against  some  possible  Union  lover  in  their  midst,  one 
who  was  seeking  to  be  of  service  to  him  at  that? 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  say!"  cried  Miss  Chilton,  with  a 
curl  of  her  lip.  "  We  know — at  least  I  know — the  girl ! 
What  we  heard,  or  at  least  I  heard,  a  week  ago  was 
that  you — that  they,  that — oh,  I  can't  explain — I  can't 
go  on !  "  she  said,  and  now  burning  blushes,  to  his 
amaze,  suffused  her  face  and  she  covered  it  with  her 
hands. 

Then  voices  were  heard  below  stairs — the  doctor 
showing  the  major  from  Jack's  room  to  the  door,  cere 
monious  and  courtly  even  when  aggrieved. 

"  He  will  wish  to  see  me — perhaps  you,  too — at 
once,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Miss  Chilton,  starting  im 
pulsively  forward.  "  I  just  want  to  know  that — that 
what  I  now  believe  is  true,  and  to  be  able  to  say  so 


132  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

confidently  to  father  and  perhaps  to — to  others.  You 
had  not  thought  of  trying  to  escape  so  long  as  you 
were  with  us?"  And  for  an  instant  the  dark,  glorious 
eyes  looked  full  into  his  face,  then  fell  before  the  inten 
sity  of  his. 

"  On  my  word,  Miss  Chilton — no  !  " 

"  Then — then,"  she  vehemently  cried,  "  I  don't 
care  how  soon  you  do  try  —  now!"  and  with  that 
she  darted  past  him  to  'her  own  room  and  presently 
the  doctor's  slow  step  was  heard  ascending  the 
stairs. 

It  was  late  that  night  and  the  moon  had  dipped  be 
yond  the  Blue  Ridge  when,  after  a  family  talk  in  Jack's 
room,  they  separated.  Not  another  chance  had  Benton 
to  speak  to  Rosalie,  but  for  good  and  sufficient  reason 
he  had  found  her  actions  of  most  unusual  interest.  Pale 
and  silent,  absorbed  in  thought,  she  had  taken  little  part 
in  the  conference.  Twice  she  stole  softly  to  the  win 
dow,  drew  aside  the  curtain  and  peered  through  to  outer 
darkness;  then,  while  her  father  was  earnestly  talking, 
she  seated  herself  close  to  the  curtains,  and  Benton, 
watching  her  with  devouring  eyes,  saw  that  she  was 
listening  intently  for  sounds,  signals,  something  from 
without  and  paying  little  heed  to  what  was  said  within. 
Then,  he  could  not  be  mistaken,  there  came  a  low  tap, 
tap  on  the  pane.  Rosalie  quickly,  silently  drew  the 
shade  aside  enough  to  enable  her  to  give  one  answering 
tap,  and  a  moment  later  she  stole  quietly  out  of  the 
room,  while  the  doctor  was  still  talking,  and,  when  she 


LIBBY   OR   LIBERTY  133 

returned  nearly  half  an  hour  later,  there  were  drops  of 
water  on  her  rippling  hair. 

By  this  time  between  the  Chiltons,  father  and  son,  it 
had  been  determined  that  every  influence  should  at  once 
be  brought  to  bear  at  Richmond  to  bring  about  Ben- 
ton's  exchange — Fred  himself  agreeing  to  write  urgent 
letters  to  friends  in  front  of  Washington.  Already  quite 
a  number  of  officers  and  men  had  been  returned  from 
Libby,  the  first  small  boat-load  having  gone  to  the 
Capital  and  been  welcomed  by  the  President  himself 
before  the  winter's  snows  were  swept  entirely  from  the 
Virginia  mountains.  "  Just  one  thing  I  fear,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  that  the  same  influence  that  dogged  you  here 
and  led  to  the  order  for  your  delivery  there,  may  pursue 
you  at  Richmond." 

"  And  will  you  tell  me  what  that  is  and  why  it  should 
be  so  bitter?"  asked  Benton. 

The  doctor  glanced  uncertainly  at  the  thinned  face, 
flushing  faintly  even  through  the  pallor  of  this  long  con 
finement,  then  turned  to  Rosalie.  Quickly  she  again 
left  her  chair,  hurried  to  the  window  and  threw  open  the 
curtain  as  though  to  look  forth  into  the  night  where  all 
was  apparently  dark  as  Erebus. 

"  It  is  a  family — jah,  suh.  I  hardly  understand  it  my 
self.  But  I'm  bound  to  say  that  Major  Lounsberry  has 
fohfeited  any  claim  he  may  have  had  upon  my  friend 
ship.  Now  I  must  look  to  that  bandage  again  before 
you  retiah,  suh."  And  thus  closed  the  conference. 

Not  half  an  hour  later  young  Pomp  was  nervously 


134  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

fidgetting  about  the  room,  on  the  customary  plea  of 
helping  Marse  Benton  undress,  when  he  rolled  his  big 
eyes  thrice  to  the  west  window  and  finally  said,  with  a 
chuckle : 

"  Marse  Jack  never  thought  nuthin'  of  swingin'  out 
of  that  winder  when  dis  was  his  room  'fo'  de  wah." 

"  Rather  a  high  jump  for  a  heavy  man,"  suggested 
Benton,  wondering  to  what  this  conversation  might 
lead. 

"  Lawd,  Marse  Benton,  you  done  fo'got  de  lightnin' 
rawd!" 

Stepping  to  the  window  the  lieutenant  peered  forth 
into  the  moist  and  windy  night.  The  clouds  were  sail 
ing  swiftly  overhead,  alternately  hiding  and  revealing 
the  few  peeping  stars.  A  warm  wet  breeze  was  sway 
ing  the  boughs  of  the  big  oak  at  the  back  of  the  garden 
and  the  branches  of  the  locusts  along  the  unpaved  side 
street.  Not  a  glimmer  of  light  came  from  any  of  the 
scattered  houses;  not  a  sound  was  heard  save  the  sweep 
and  rustle  of  the  gentle  gale.  A  few  heavy  drops  still 
pattered  from  the  eaves  and  splashed  upon  the  sill  be 
side  him — drops  such  as  shone  on  Rosalie's  wavy  hair. 
Putting  forth  his  hand  he  could  feel,  just  to  the  left  of 
the  window,  the  stout,  thick  iron  rod  that  Pomp  had 
described — Jack's  means  of  egress  in  wild  university 
days  not  so  long  gone  by. 

Slowly,  thoughtfully  he  closed  the  shade  and  returned 
to  the  dressing-table  where  stood  the  single  candle. 
Pomp  had  vanished,  but  there,  pinned  to  the  cushion 


LIBBY   OR  LIBERTY  135 

was  the  mate  to  the  strange  little  billet  he  had  found 
at  the  gate.     Even  the  handwriting  was  the  same. 

"  Horses,  guide  and  everything  you  need  waiting  back  of  the  barn. 
Lose  not  a  moment !  Choose  between  the  mountains  for  a  day  or  two 
or  Libby  for  the  rest  of  the  war.  Burn  this,  too." 


CHAPTER   XI 

QUEEN    ROSALIE 

For  ten  minutes  after  reading  that  strange  missive 
Benton  stood  absorbed  in  deep,  even  painful,  thought. 
The  alternative  presented  was  a  trying  one.  From  what 
Dr.  Chilton  had  said  in  the  course  of  the  evening's  con 
ference  the  prospect  of  long  imprisonment  seemed  as 
sured.  Lounsberry  was  a  man  of  influence,  even  a 
power,  at  Richmond,  and  he  could  be  relied  on  to  exert 
it  against  Benton  because — "  because,"  said  the  doctor, 
as  he  was  rearranging  the  bandages  on  Benton's  arm, 
"  he  is  no  longer  kindly  disposed  toward  my — house 
hold,  suh,"  and  Fred  reasoned  that  Rosalie  could,  if 
she  would,  give  further  and  more  explicit  information. 

"  I  have  been  fearing  this  for  several  days,  suh,"  said 
Chilton.  "  Several  of  my  patients,  who  are  loyal  Vir 
ginians  and  fully  in  accord  with  the  stand  of  their  State, 
suh,  have  nevertheless  been  loyal  in  their  friendship  to 
me.  They  believe  in  fair  play.  They  honor  a  chivalric 
enemy,  and  they  know  how  you  protected  and  aided  me. 
From  three  or  four  sources,  therefore,  these  warnings 
came,  and — and  other  stories  that  I  prefer  not  to  men 
tion.  I  refused  to  believe  all  until  Major  Lounsberry 
practically  confirmed  the  truth — that  is — the  truth  of 


QUEEN   ROSALIE  137 

those  referring  to  him,  to-day.  But  I  shall  write  to 
Longstreet  to-night,  suh,  and  to  Jeb  Stuart  and  to 
General  Lee.  They  will  have  influence  with  the  Presi 
dent,  Mr.  Benton,  and  meanwhile,"  here  both  the  kindly 
voice  and  the  gentle  hand  seemed  to  tremble,  "  I — I 
would  give  almost  anything  I  own  to — to  stop  your 
being  sent  to  Libby,  suh,  but,  I  see  no  way — I  see  no 
way." 

And  soon  thereafter,  leaving  young  Pomp  to  assist 
his  soldier  patient,  the  doctor  had  withdrawn  to  his  study 
on  the  ground  floor,  promising  to  be  with  him  again 
about  five. 

It  was  just  after  eleven  o'clock  by  Benton's  watch  as 
he  roused  himself  from  the  spell  of  anxious  thought  and 
looked  about  him.  There  was  significance  in  Pomp's 
disappearance.  It  was  evident  that  the  youngster  had 
been  carefully  "  coached  "  to  point  out  the  lightning  rod 
as  the  best  means  to  leave  the  house  unseen,  unheard. 
That  Benton  was  confidently  expected  to  make  the  at 
tempt  was  obvious.  Otherwise  Pomp  would  have  re 
mained  to  help  him  off  with  his  boots  and  uniform. 
Even  to  his  watch,  purse,  spurs  and  boots  not  an  item 
of  his  personal  equipment  had  been  taken  by  his  captors. 
His  sword  had  been  stricken  from  his  hand  during  the 
melee  at  the  stone  house  and  his  revolver  was  gone,  but 
that  was  all.  A  year  later  everything  would  have  be 
come  legitimate  spoil  of  war. 

Peering  from  his  window  Benton  saw,  or  fancied  he 
saw,  the  dim  light  as  of  a  lantern  flitting  about  the  barn. 


138  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Evidently  they  were  even  then  waiting  for  him.  Evi 
dently  he  was  expected  to  "  lose  not  a  moment."  Yet 
who  were  they?  Surely  not  his  venerable  host  and 
helper — for  Dr.  Chilton  could  not  lend  himself  to  any 
scheme  for  the  escape  of  the  prisoner  without  breaking 
faith  with  the  Confederate  Government.  Surely  not 
Jack,  his  wounded  son,  for  court-martial  and  dismissal 
in  disgrace  would  follow  even  circumstantial  evidence 
that  he  had  aided  or  suggested  the  escape.  Surely  not 
Rosalie!  She  had  shown  such  deep  abhorrence  of  the 
plot  to  speed  his  going  that,  even  after  her  impulsive 
outbreak  early  in  the  evening,  he  could  not  but  feel  it 
would  be  treachery  to  her  and  to  those  she  held  dear, 
were  he  now  to  make  the  attempt,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  transfer  to  Libby  stared  him  in  the  face. 

Pomp's  complicity  it  was  easy  to  explain.  The  ne 
groes,  as  a  rule,  were  glad  to  help  the  "  Lincum  sol 
diers,"  and,  where  they  were  hesitant,  a  bribe  soon 
settled  the  matter.  Then  Pomp's  suggestion  of  the 
lightning  rod  was  still  further  proof  that  outsiders,  not 
Chiltons,  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  plan,  for,  did  the 
household  favor  it,  they  would  never  have  sent  a  one- 
armed  man  swinging  into  space  when  the  back  stairs 
and  the  back  door  were  unguarded,  and  guards  or  sen 
tries  of  any  kind  there  had  been  none,  so  sacred  was 
the  word  of  a  Chilton.  No;  as  he  still  pondered  over 
the  question,  the  hands  of  his  watch  crept  to  half-past 
eleven,  and  a  horse,  somewhere  out  in  what  appeared 
to  be  a  lane  or  alley  behind  the  barn,  neighed  impa- 


QUEEN   ROSALIE  139 

tiently;  and,  surely  as  he  could  hear  the  tick  of  his  watch, 
the  beating  of  his  own  heart,  Benton  caught  the  sound 
of  a  low,  gruff  voice  almost  directly  underneath  his 
window,  and  then  the  dull,  sudden  tramp  of  hoofs  on 
rain-soaked  sod.  Then — then  there  were  two  horses — 
or  two  parties — one  in  the  dark  lane,  one  here  almost 
at  his  feet. 

"  Lose  not  a  moment,"  said  the  note  he  had  crumpled 
in  his  hand,  yet  here  had  he  lost  twenty  in  childish  hesi 
tancy.  Again  he  read  the  clearly  pencilled  lines.  Again 
he  recalled  Rosalie's  eagerness  to  see  the  previous  note, 
and  her  contemptuous  confidence  as  to  its  authorship. 
"  Burn  this,  too,"  said  the  second  missive;  and,  in  honor, 
was  he  not  bound  to  shield  one  who  so  eagerly,  un 
selfishly  sought  to  aid  or  rescue  him?  Yet  Rosalie 
wished  to  see,  and — good  God,  how  he  longed  once 
more  to  see  her  and  satisfy  himself  that  she  would  ap 
prove,  condone,  forgive  if  he  seized  this  chance  of  es 
cape! — to  satisfy  himself,  moreover,  that  she  no  longer 
held  him  as  she  had — in  rank  disfavor>  that  possibly — 
possibly But  that  thought  was  madness ! 

And  then,  though  his  door  stood  a  trifle  ajar  and  he 
had  been  listening,  listening  for  any  sound  that  would 
tell  of  her  presence  near  him — that  he  might,  even  at  so 
late  an  hour,  have  one  word  with  her;  though  not  the 
whisper  of  a  foofall  had  reached  his  ears,  something, 
light  as  down  and  barely  audible  even  to  him,  was  softly, 
stealthily  tapping  on  the  panel. 

Marvelling,  he  tiptoed  to  the  door,  and  a  little  scrap  of 


140  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

paper  waved  before  his  eyes.  Not  a  ringer  even  was 
visible.  He  took  the  paper  with  his  one  unfettered 
hand ;  threw  open  the  door  by  a  quick  twist  of  the  foot, 
and  something  with  long,  dusky  masses  of  hair  trailing 
behind  it  sped  away  in  the  dim  light  from  the  lower 
hall.  A  board  or  two  creaked.  There  was  a  faint  swish 
of  skirts,  a  whiff  of  fragrance  like  that  of  the  wild  violet, 
but  that  was  all.  On  the  floor  below  the  hall  lamp  still 
burned,  and  the  doctor,  busy  in  his  sanctum,  hemmed 
loudly  and  stirred  as  though  to  hail  or  speak.  A  door 
closed  across  the  wide  landing — her  door  as  Benton 
could  judge  by  the  sound, — and  then  he  was  alone  with 
this  second  note. 

Bearing  it  to  the  dressing-table,  he  read : 

"  Precious  time  wasted  !  Go — or  it  may  be  too  late.  Rely  implicitly 
on  first  guide  you  find." 

And  this,  at  least,  was  not  from  the  hand  that  pencilled 
the  others ! 

Again  that  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  beneath  the  win 
dow,  and  low-toned,  rebukeful,  yet  almost  imploring 
remonstrance.  A  darkey's  voice  surely. 

"  Cain't  yo'  keep  him  still?"  it  asked,  and  Benton 
crept  to  the  open  window  and  peered  down  into  the 
dim  depths  below,  and  then  came  the  soft  hail  in  tones 
he  felt  sure  he  knew — Black  Dan's — Dan  whom  he 
had  heard  singing  and  doing  chores  about  the  sheds 
and  gardens  for  days  past:  "  Fo'  Gawd,  Marse  Benton, 
'f  you  doan  come  quick  dis  horse'll  spile  de  whole  busi- 


QUEEN  ROSALIE  141 

Then  another  voice — a  mere  whisper,  half  drowned  by 
the  sweep  of  the  wind  in  the  trees — Pomp's  quavering 
tenor.  "  Yo  doan  need  fetch  nawthin',  Marse  Ben- 
ton.  We've  got  everythin'  hyuh." 

And  then  he  heard  the  doctor  closing  his  study  door 
and  tramping  across  the  lower  hall  to  take  a  good-night 
look  at  his  boy,  after  which  he  would  doubtless  retire 
to  his  own  room  adjoining  the  study  and  well  away  from 
the  garden  side  of  the  house.  It  was  high  time — it  was 
good  time — to  be  moving,  still  Benton  hung  irresolute, 
persuading  himself  that  his  longing  for  one  look  at  that 
lovely  face,  for  five  words  from  those  exquisite  lips,  was 
really  reluctance  to  take  a  step  that  might  compromise 
this  generous  and  hospitable  household — even  while  in 
his  hand  he  still  held  the  words  that  bade  him  go. 

Then  came  a  sudden  scurry  without,  for,  midway  to 
the  barn  a  soft,  low  whistle  sounded,  and  almost  in 
stantly  Benton  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  again.  They 
were  hurriedly  leading  a  horse — or  two  horses — away. 
A  lantern  swung  impatiently  at  the  corner  of  the  barn. 
Somebody  was  surely  signalling.  Something  prompted 
him  by  way  of  answer  to  blow  out  his  candle,  to  thrust 
the  notes — both  scraps  of  paper — into  a  convenient 
pocket,  then  to  kneel  by  the  window  and  watch  and 
listen. 

Almost  instantly  the  lantern  disappeared,  and  there 
were  five  minutes  of  silence.  Then,  as  he  knelt  and 
watched  and  waited  and  all  was  still  without  and  his 
darkey  aides-de-camp  made  no  further  hail,  suddenly  he 


142  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

heard  the  creak  behind  him  of  door  cautiously  opening, 
and,  looking  over  his  shoulder  in  the  dim  ghostly  light 
sifting  through  the  balustrade  from  the  floor  below,  he 
was  able  to  discern  a  tall,  slender  form  coming  noise 
lessly,  cautiously,  straight  to  his  now  wide-open 
door.  Rosalie  beyond  a  doubt,  and  she  believed  him 
gone! 

Go  then  he  must!  Athlete  that  he  had  been,  ever 
since  boyhood,  it  was  no  trick  at  all  to  swing,  even  one- 
handed,  on  so  thick  a  rod.  His  heavy  gauntlet  was  al 
ready  on,  and,  just  as  he  reached  forth  to  grasp  the 
iron,  his  practised  ear  caught  the  stealthy  tread  of 
spurred  boots  on  the  path  below — coming  from  the 
back  gate — the  way  to  the  barn.  Another  moment  and, 
distinctly,  in  a  sudden  lull  of  the  breeze,  he  heard  a  low, 
cautious  voice  in  half  murmur,  half  whisper.  Words 
were  indistinguishable,  but  he  knew  the  tones — Louns- 
berry  beyond  question,  and  Lounsberry  hailing  in  ex 
pectation  of  finding  there  an  accomplice. 

Not  a  second  could  he  lose  now!  To  go  would  be 
to  meet  the  death  of  escaping  prisoner — or,  at  best, 
justifiable  imprisonment  behind  the  bars.  To  stay  where 
he  was  might  involve  her — might  at  least  so  startle  as 
to  force  from  her  a  cry  of  alarm.  Quick,  light  and  lithe 
as  a  panther  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  met  her  just  out 
side  the  door.  No  time  for  explanation! 

"  Silence!  "  he  whispered,  almost  savagely.  "  Louns 
berry  is  there,"  and  then,  defiant  even  of  her  wrath,  he 
wrapped  that  one  strong  arm  about  her,  for  (this  at 


QUEEN   ROSALIE  143 

least,  long  after,  was  his  one  excuse)  he  thought  she 
would  fall,  so  sudden  was  the  shock  and  start,  so  wildly 
beat  the  little  heart  once  more  fluttering  on  his  breast. 
For  a  moment  she  was  too  dazed  to  use  her  strength, 
then,  through  her  set  teeth,  savagely  as  he  had  spoken, 
she  hissed  at  him,  while  slender  fingers  tore  at  his  mus 
cular  hand: 

"  Let  me  go,  instantly!  " 

And  when  he  had  released  her,  she  again  seemed  like 
to  fall,  and  he  again  essayed  to  hold  her,  but  now  with 
clinching  little  fists  she  fairly  beat  him  off.  Then, 
springing  past  him,  reeling  a  bit,  but  desperate  and 
determined,  flew  to  the  window,  knelt  and  listened,  leav 
ing  him  faltering  one  moment  at  the  door.  Only  a  mo 
ment,  though;  for,  casting  aside  all  scruple,  he  followed 
and  knelt  beside  her.  Shrinking  from  him,  with  her 
white  hands  pressed  to  her  temples;  amaze,  indignation, 
then  triumph  in  her  face,  though  he  could  not  see  it,  she 
seemed  listening  absorbed.  Again  it  was  Lounsberry's 
voice,  and  Lounsberry  had  found  his  fellow  spy,  and 
with  amazing  confidence  and  fluency  was  Pomp  reply 
ing.  Oh,  what  glibness  of  guile! 

"  Ye-as,  suh.  I  don'  tole  him  so.  He  cum  down  the 
back  stayuhs  an'  outen  de  back  do*  mos'  an  hour  ago, 
an'  fo'  we  could  show  him  de  way,  suh,  Miss  Rosalie 
come  tay'in  after  him,  an'  draw'd  him  back  into  de  house 
again! " 

Benton  could  feel,  although  only  a  fold  of  her  gown 
touched  his  knee,  that  the  girl  beside  him  was  fairly 


144  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

quivering  at  that  bare-faced  whopper,  but  quivering  with 
wrath  or  delight  he  knew  not  which. 

"  You  imp  of  hell !  If  you  are  lying  I'll  skin  you  alive  ! 
Whose  horses  were  those  in  the  side  lot  as  I  came  up?  " 
demanded  Lounsberry. 

"  Fo*  Gawd,  Captain,  /  do'  know !  Dey  wasn't  ouhs 
• — ouhs  is  in  de  bahn,  suh.  Take  de  key  and  see  fo'  yo'- 
self.  Hyuh's  the  dochtuh  now,  suh!  " 

A  stream  of  mellow  light  had  shot  suddenly  forth  as  a 
door  in  the  north  wing  was  thrown  open,  and,  lantern 
in  hand,  out  came  the  head  of  the  house,  angering,  bare 
headed. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  at  this  hour,  you  black 
rascal,  and  with  whom  are  you  talking?  Major  Louns 
berry!  "  and  with  amaze  and  dismay  in  his  voice  the  old 
Virginian  faced  his  unlooked-for  visitor. 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  your  surprise,  Doctor,"  promptly 
replied  the  staff  officer,  stepping  forward  into  the  little 
circle  of  light.  "  I  had  thought  to  be  at  Gordonsville 
before  this,  but — strange  things  are  happening,  strange 
stories  are  afloat.  It  came  to  my  ears  while  on  the  way 
that  your  servants  had  been  bribed  to  enable  Lieutenant 
Benton  to  escape  this  night.  I  returned  at  once,  and 
two  of  my  escort  declare  that  two  horsemen  rode  away 
from  your  side  yard  yonder  barely  ten  minutes  ago. 
You  can  hear  their  story,  or  satisfy  yourself  and  me,  if 
you  will,  that — that  our  prisoner  is  still  here." 

"  Still  here,  Major  Lounsberry,"  answered  the  doctor, 
with  grave  dignity.  "  Though  I  warn  you  now  that 


QUEEN   ROSALIE  145 

since  your  order  was  issued  remanding  him  to  Libby  I 
no  longer  assume  responsibility.  I  know  that  he  is  still 
here,  but — do  you  prefer  to  search  in  person,  suh?" 

In  an  instant  Rosalie  was  on  her  feet.  Only  a  second 
or  two  she  stood  there,  quivering  with  excitement,  then 
seized  him  by  the  arm.  "  Quick!  Follow  me,"  she  whis 
pered.  Out  into  the  broad  landing  she  rushed,  and  to 
Benton's  amaze,  struck  a  light,  threw  open  the  lid  of 
an  old  colonial  desk  that  stood  with  its  back  against 
the  wall  between  the  doors  of  her  own  and  her  aunt's 
room,  plumped  him  down  into  a  chair,  and  scattered 
paper  and  envelopes  in  front  of  him.  "  Be  writing  your 
letters,"  she  whispered  command.  Then  away  she  sped, 
closed  her  door  behind  her  just  as  the  doctor's  voice 
was  again  heard  in  the  hall  below. 

Two  minutes  later,  lantern  bearing,  the  master  of 
the  house  came  slowly  up  the  stairs,  followed  by  the 
clinking  boots  of  Major  Lounsberry.  Feigning  sur 
prise  at  such  interruption,  the  Union  officer  rose  delib 
erately  from  his  seat  and  confronted  the  two.  They 
stopped  short,  and  for  a  moment  were  speechless; 
then — 

"  As  I  told  you,  suh,"  said  Dr.  Chilton,  with  a  bow  of 
mock  deference,  to  his  unwelcome  follower. 

"  As  I — should  have  known,"  said  Major  Lounsberry, 
in  prompt  though  unpalatable  acceptance  of  the  situa 
tion. 

"  The  major,  suh,"  said  Dr.  Chilton,  to  his  guest,  in 
pardonably  magniloquent  enjoyment  of  the  situation, 


146  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

"  required  ocular  demonstration  that  you  had  not  taken 
unto  yourself  wings.  I  rejoice  that  we  didn't  have  to 
disturb  you  in  bed.  Are  you  satisfied  now,  Major 
Lounsberry?  " 

"  Perfectly,  Dr.  Chilton."  Then  to  Benton :  "  Since 
you  do  not  care  to  sleep,  sir,  perhaps  it  will  not  incom 
mode  you  to  start  at  five." 

"  It  would  incommode  the  household,  not  me,"  an 
swered  Benton,  calmly,  yet  wondering  what  he  would 
do  if  ordered  searched  at  the  moment,  for  both  those 
little  tell-tale  notes  were  now  crumpled  together  in  his 
hand.  "  Breakfast  is  ordered  at  five-thirty,  but — I  am 
entirely  at  your  service."  Then  placidly  he  turned  and 
resumed  his  seat  and  pen.  Once  more  the  doctor 
ushered  his  visitor  to  the  front  door,  ceremoniously 
bowed  him  out,  regretting,  he  said,  inability  to  offer  him 
the  hospitalities  of  his  roof,  for  every  room  was  taken, 
and  then,  tremulous  with  wrath,  returned  to  Benton. 

"  I  cannot  fathom  this,  suh,"  said  he.  "  That  man 
gave  me  to  understand  he  would  be  at  Gawd'nsville  to 
night,  and  here  at  midnight  comes  prowling  around 
my  place  like  he  was  layin'  a  trap,  suh.  Mr.  Benton,  if 
there  were  any  way  in  my  power,  suh,  to  get  you  out  of 
that  fella's  clutches,  I  believe  I'd  do  it — hyuh  an'  now!  " 
and  the  gray-haired  physician  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  You  can  best  serve  me,  Doctor,  by  getting  to  bed 
and  resting,"  was  Benton's  reply.  i(  You  need  it,  sir." 
And  then,  to  the  surprise  of  both,  Rosalie's  door  opened 
and  forth  she  came,  candle  in  hand,  her  lustrous  hair  fall- 


QUEEN  ROSALIE  147 

ing  in  ebony  waves  all  down  her  back,  her  face  pale  but 
beautiful,  and  with  quiet  force  she  led  the  passive  doctor 
from  his  seat  to  the  stairway;  escorted  him  to  his  room; 
talked  with  him  quietly,  soothingly  a  moment,  and  then, 
bidding  him  affectionate  good  night,  came  tripping 
lightly  up  the  stairs. 

But  it  was  a  transmogrified  face  that  now  met  Ben- 
ton's  gaze.  Flushed,  eager,  brimful  of  wrath  and  deter 
mination,  she  came  straight  to  his  side,  for  one  moment 
too  excited  to  speak,  again  the  girl  who  had  dared  every 
peril  the  night  she  donned  Confederate  uniform  for  the 
sake  of — what? 

"  I  owe  everything  to  your  quickness  of  wit,"  Benton 
began.  "  I  should  never  have  thought  of  this.  I  was 
going  to  jump  into  my  blankets." 

"  And  spoil  everything !  "  said  she,  in  deep  disdain  of 
such  stupidity.  "  He  would  have  seen  and  suspected 
at  once.  You,  with  your  boots — in  bed !  Listen,  now. 
They  are  riding  away,"  and  as  she  spoke  the  clanking 
of  sabres  and  the  squashing  of  hoofs  in  the  soft,  muddy 
side  street  told  that  Lounsberry's  aggressive  party  was 
really  on  the  move.  She  ran  to  a  window  and  glanced 
out  after  them.  Then,  when  they  were  surely  out  of 
earshot  and  the  sound  had  died  away  on  the  night,  once 
more  she  came  to  him,  her  eyes  ablaze,  her  cheeks  afire. 

"  And  now  if  I  had  any  compunction,"  she  murmured 
fast,  "  it  is  gone !  Of  course  I  had  striven  that  you 
should  never  suspect  we  aided  you ;  and,  had  you  gone 
at  once,  you  never  could  have  known.  No,  don't ! " 


148  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

For  here,  with  protestation  on  his  lips  and  eager, 
outstretched  hand,  he  stepped  impulsively  forward. 
"  No — no !  Listen,  for  there  is  no  second  to  spare. 
The  horses — your  horses — will  be  back  in  a  moment. 
Go  without  question !  You  should  have  been  miles  up 
toward  the  mountains  now.  I  simply  took  a  leaf  out 
of  that  man's  book.  He  planned  to  lure  you  to  attempt 
to  escape,  with  creatures  of  his  own  waiting  back  of 
the  barn.  Then  he  was  to  overtake  and  arrest  you,  or 
they  might  have  shot — I  do  not  know.  But  they  would 
have  been  badly  fooled.  They  bribed  Pomp  to  bring 
you  his — her  note,  and  he  had  to  give  it  first  to  me. 
They  were  to  wait  beyond  the  barn,  but  we  had  horses 
right  under  your  window.  Then  you  delayed.  They 
became  impatient.  Pomp  gave  warning  in  time  to  get 
the  horses  away.  You  know  the  rest.  Now,  are  you 
ready?"  And  the  brave  eyes  looked  one  instant  glori 
ously  into  his. 

"Ready?"  he  cried.  "Ready  but  for  one  thing," 
and  again  and  with  burning  eagerness  and  longing  he 
sprang  forward,  and  again  she  recoiled,  her  hand  up 
lifted  ;  but  he  would  not  be  denied.  "  You  shall  hear 
me,  Rosalie,"  he  murmured,  hoarsely.  "  You  must 
hear !  "  and  one  strong  hand  had  seized  the  white,  slen 
der  wrist.  "  I  bless  you  and  thank  you,  but  more  than 
all  I  love yr 

"  Hush  !  Silence  !  "  she  cried,  adding  imperative 
stamp  of  her  little  foot. 

From  the  window  of  his  room  there  came  a  pleading 


QUEEN   ROSALIE  149 

voice.  In  the  soft  glow  of  the  candle  light  two  rolling 
eyeballs  and  a  double  row  of  gleaming  teeth  were  seen. 
It  was  Pomp,  simian-like  sealer  of  the  lightning  "  rawd." 
"  Miss  Rosalie/'  he  panted,  "  the  horses  is  hyuh !  The 
sojers  done  gone  !  " 

"  Now,  Lieutenant  Benton,"  she  cried,  though  her 
voice — her  very  form — was  shaking.  "  If  you  mean  to 
make  a  try  for  freedom,  it's  now  or  never! " 

And  when  at  dawn  Lounsberry's  guard  came  ham 
mering  at  the  door,  they  came  too  late — the  bird  had 
flown. 


CHAPTER   XII 


"  IN   THE   TEETH    OF   THE   BRIGADE  " 


Once  more  the  Badger-Hoosier  brigade  was  swing 
ing  away  southwestward.  For  the  sixth  time  in  less 
than  a  year  the  men  of  the  "  Black  Hats  "  at  the  head  of 
column  had  picked  their  way  over  the  stone-ribbed  pike, 
saying  opprobious  things  of  Virginia  path-masters.  An 
impudent  lot  were  these  fellows  in  the  imitation  "  Kos- 
suths."  Marvellously  snappy  and  precise  in  drill,  steady 
on  parade,  enduring  on  the  march  and  reasonably  re 
spectful  toward  their  own  officers  (who  were  the  only 
ones  in  the  division  to  don  and  habitually  wear  the  full- 
dress  headgear  of  the  regular  service),  the  rank  and 
file  were  blessed  with  not  a  little  soldier  skepticism  as 
to  the  value  or  stability  of  other  commands  in  and  out 
of  the  brigade,  and  a  calmly  critical  attitude  toward  offi 
cers  other  than  those  of  their  selection.  They  had  not 
been  over  well  content  with  their  original  field  and 
staff,  and,  for  lack  of  leaders  of  that  rank,  had  become 
somewhat  split  up  at  first  Bull  Run,  fighting  sturdily 
all  the  same  by  company  or  squad  to  the  fag  end,  and 
never  knowing  they  were  whipped  when  finally 
"  herded  "  off  the  field.  Now,  however,  they  had  men 
at  their  head — colonel,  lieutenant-colonel  and  major — by 


"IN  THE   TEETH   OF  THE   BRIGADE"  151 

whom  they  positively  swore  and  on  whose  skill  and 
valor  they  would  have  banked  their  last  cent.  Yet, 
with  all  their  regard  for  these,  their  honored  leaders,  it 
must  be  owned  the  Black  Hats  gave  them  lots  of  trou 
ble.  They  would  guy  the  rest  of  the  brigade  and  lord 
it  generally  over  the  whole  division,  only  one  other 
regiment  of  which  had  as  yet  faced  the  foe  in  battle. 
They  had  a  curious  defect  of  vision  when  "  outside  " 
officers  happened  along,  and  were  forever  being  com 
plained  of  as  failing  to  "  render  honors,"  whereat  they 
were  heard  on  more  than  one  occasion  unblushingly  to 
declare  they  saw,  but  didn't  suppose  the  strangers  could 
be  officers.  They  were  preternaturally  keen  sighted  as 
sentries  toward  men  of  other  regiments  "  running 
guard "  or  smuggling  contraband  of  war,  and  were 
correspondingly  blind  when  the  culprit  was  of  their  own 
complexion.  They  prided  themselves  on  their  regi 
mental  knowledge  of  guard  duty,  and  had  won  wide 
spread  fame  and  deserved  malediction  by  the  exploit  of 
relieving  every  mother's  son  of  the  sentries  of  one  of 
Baldy  Smith's  pet  regiments,  replacing  each  in  turn  by 
a  duly  authenticated  yet  entirely  unauthorized  guards 
man  of  their  own  choosing,  who  promptly  deserted  post 
and  sneaked  off  home,  while  the  luckless  relief  itself  was 
headed  away  through  the  darkness,  a  ship  without  a 
rudder,  a  squad  of  twelve  without  a  commander,  and 
left  to  its  own  devices  to  pitch  and  flounder  and  curse 
through  ditches  until  brought  up  standing  by  a  stone 
wall  and  the  discovery  that  there  was  no  corporal. 


152  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

Preceding,  as  did  these  Badgers,  the  regular  relief  by 
only  five  minutes  and  provided  with  the  same  counter 
sign,  dress  and  equipment,  there  was  really  nothing  par 
ticularly  brilliant  or  hazardous  in  their  accomplishment 
of  this  feat.  It  was  the  sublime  impudence  of  the  thing 
that  made  it  remarkable.  They  were  probably  the  best 
drilled  and  positively  the  worst  hated  regiment  in  the 
whole  division — and  relished  one  distinction  quite  as 
much  as  the  other — when  they  were  marching  this  third 
time  on  Manassas,  and  the  little  West  Pointer  in  saddle 
at  their  head  thanked  God  that  at  last  he  had  them 
where,  with  work  against  a  common  foe,  there  was  pos 
sibility  of  keeping  them  out  of  mischief. 

Centreville  had  been  passed,  Bull  Run  recrossed,  and 
Bristoe  reached — a  point  beyond  their  previous  explo 
rations.  Then  back  had  they  to  go  to  meet  a  threat 
ened  raid  on  their  railway  communications,  and,  that 
matter  settled,  again  were  they  trudging  through  the 
well-remembered  wood  roads  when,  as  a  turn  of  the 
way  brought  their  foremost  company  in  full  view  of  the 
fine  sweep  of  country  off  to  the  west,  the  gray-bearded 
colonel,  for  the  time  commanding  the  brigade,  reined 
out  to  the  right  for  a  look  at  his  men,  and  his  tall,  born- 
soldier  of  an  adjutant  rode  alongside  the  black-bearded, 
dark-featured,  stocky  little  leader  of  the  Black  Hats, 
pointed  with  his  gauntletted  hand  to  the  blue  curtain  of 
the  Bull  Run  range  and  remarked :  "  I'd  give  a  good 
deal  to  know  just  what  that  fellow  Jackson's  doing  be 
hind  that  screen  to-day." 


"IN   THE   TEETH   OF   THE   BRIGADE"  153 

"Why  so?"  asked  O'Connor,  shortly.  "  Shields 
licked  him  well  at  Kernstown.  Banks  has  turned  his 
whole  force  back  there.  Blenker's  big  division  has  gone 
to  reinforce  them.  Why,  we've  got  enough  men  there 
to  eat  'em  alive — Jackson  and  all." 

"  First  catch  your  rabbit,"  said  the  adjutant,  mus 
ingly.  "  Old  Stonewall  knows  every  footpath  in  the 
valley — every  path  through  the  mountains.  He'll  trick 
Banks  and  Fremont,  sure's  your  born,  colonel.  Then 
we'll  have  a  shy  at  him." 

"  May  the  Lord  grant  it,"  was  the  pious  answer,  as 
the  colonel  looked  wistfully  away  toward  the  little  rift 
in  the  dark  ridge  where,  ten  miles  distant,  lay  Thor 
oughfare  Gap,  the  best  and  shortest  route  to  the  Shen- 
andoah — the  Gap  through  which  four  months  later  this 
same  much-discussed  and  as  yet  little-known  Jackson 
was  with  such  fatal  effect  to  pour  his  columns  on  the 
Union  flank  and  rear.  How  little  the  speaker  dreamed 
what  that  day  was  to  bring  forth ! 

It  was  a  moist  afternoon.  The  sun  at  intervals 
streamed  hotly  on  the  spongy  earth.  Little  wreaths  of 
vapor  here  and  there  drifted  slowly  into  space.  The 
men  in  the  marching  column,  heavily  burdened  with 
bulging  knapsack  and  double  blanket  and  the  long 
Springfield  over  their  burly  shoulders,  whipped  off 
their  hats  and  swept  the  coat-sleeve  over  their  dripping 
brows,  peering  curiously  at  the  old  colonel  sitting  sturd 
ily  in  saddle  and  watching  their  array.  He  had  but 
scant  retinue,  this  acting  brigadier,  and  had  sent  his 


154  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

right  bower  ahead  to  show  the  Black  Hats  where  to 
camp  for  the  night,  while  he  studied  the  wearying  regi 
ments  as  they  issued  from  the  wood.  The  march  had 
been  long  and  heavy.  The  men,  despite  much  recent 
tramping  to  and  fro,  were  still  a  trifle  soft  from  the 
months  of  comparative  inaction.  He  had  seen  fellows 
in  better  physical  trim  in  the  Mexican  War  days,  but 
none  that  gave  better  promise  of  splendid  work  when 
once  they  settled  down  to  business.  A  grim  smile  stole 
over  his  grizzled  face  as  his  own  old  battalion  came  strid 
ing  forth  in  the  wake  of  the  "  Scoffing  Second."  Then 
the  kindly  eyes  clouded  with  something  like  displeasure 
at  sight  of  a  tall,  rather  lanky  civilian  on  a  decrepit 
gray,  riding  with  the  lieutenant-colonel  commanding. 
He  had  seen  the  man  before  many  a  mile  from  the  spot 
and  more  than  a  week  away.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  " 
he  asked,  as  the  civilian  ambled  out  of  the  column  and 
touched  his  worn  hat-brim. 

"  My  place  is  just  over  yahnduh,  Colonel.  P'haps 
you  doan'  remember  my  comin'  to  you  with  a  pass,  back 
o'  Fairfax,"  and  the  tall  stranger  looked  confidingly  into 
the  grizzled,  sun-burned  face.  "  Been  in  to  Alexandria, 
yo'  know,  for  supplies.  Wagon  went  sho'ht  cut  by 
stone  bridge." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  colonel,  gloomily,  "  and  that's  the 
way  you  should  have  gone.  What  are  you  doing  here 
at  Manassas  ?  " 

"Mo*  supplies,  Colonel,"  grinned  he  of  the  gray  mount. 
'*'  The  commissary  gave  me'n  ohdah  for  sugah  and  cof- 


"IN   THE   TEETH   OF   THE   BRIGADE"  ^5 

fee  from  hyuh.  I  was  just  passing  the  time  o*  day  with 
the  colonel  when  I  caught  sight  o'  you,  suh,"  and  con 
ciliation  beamed  in  the  native's  artless  face. 

"  Then  you'll  be  asking  for  somebody  to  help  you 
*  tote '  it  over  to  the  stone  house,  I  suppose.  You 
told  me  that  was  your  place,"  growled  the  colonel,  in 
manifest  dissatisfaction." 

"  Oh,  no,  Colonel !  We  ain't  stoppin'  there  now.  Th' 
old  place  is  too  leaky  for  one  thing,  an'  we're  livin'  way 
over  near  Hopewell  so  long's  this  fightin's  goin'  on.  I 
reckon  I'll  stop  hyuh  at  the  Junction  to-night  an'  go 
on  to-mawrrow." 

"  I  reckon  that's  just  what  you'll  have  to  do,  sir,"  said 
the  colonel,  shortly,  "  as  this  brigade  camps  here,  and 
you'd  get  into  trouble  with  our  pickets  if  you  rode  out." 

"  Lawd  love  you,  Colonel !  I'd  just  as  lief  spend  a 
week  with  you  if  t'want  that  I'd  promised  to  get  a  lot 
of  truck  over  to  old  Judge  Armistead  at  Hopewell." 
Then  keenly  studying  the  veteran's  face,  he  suddenly 
added :  "  Ain't  Colonel  Bayard's  cavalry  out  there  ?  " 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,  my  friend,  and  I'll  tell  you  no 
lies,"  was  the  wary  answer.  "  General  McDowell's  pass 
Compels  me  to  let  you  ride  along  with  the  column,  but 
doesn't  require  me  to  post  you  as  to  our  movements. 
You  know  too  much  now  to  be  travelling  toward  Jack 
son's  people,  and — have  you  shown  that  pass  to  the 
division  commander  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  was  he  who  got  it  for  me,"  answered  the 
Virginian,  placidly.  "  It  was  I  that  took  him  Lieu- 


156  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

tenant  Benton's  pistol  and  told  him  of  his  capture. 
What's  more,  I'm  'specting  to  get  further  news  of  the 
lieutenant.  Why,  hyuh  comes  the  general  now,  and  'f 
you  don't  mind,  Colonel,  I  reckon  I'll  ride  with  him  a 
piece." 

Graybeard  glanced  half  angrily  over  his  shoulder.  A 
few  yards  north  of  the  road  there  was  a  barren  little 
eminence,  on  the  crest  of  which  there  had  suddenly 
appeared  the  division  commander  with  two  of  his  staff. 
Unslinging  their  field-glasses,  they  seemed  for  a  mo 
ment  studying  the  westward  lowlands,  then  came  trot 
ting  swiftly  toward  the  column.  With  soldierly  salute, 
the  colonel  faced  the  party  as  though  he  knew  that 
orders  were  in  the  wind,  and  his  intuition  proved  cor 
rect. 

"  Colonel,  there  are  scattered  parties  of  cavalry  out 
there  coming  swift  this  way,  too — out  north  of  Bristoe 
— between  that  and  Gainesville.  They  don't  seem  to  be 
watching  the  column  either.  Send  one  regiment  out 
along  the  Gainesville  road  as  far  as  Bethlehem  Church 
and  let  them  throw  out  skirmishers.  Halt  the  rest  of 
the  brigade  here.  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Jennings,"  he 
continued,  in  civil  acknowledgment  of  the  Virginian's 
salutation.  "  I  thought  you  were  home  by  this 
time." 

"  I  sent  the  wagon  that  way,  General,"  was  the 
prompt  answer,  "  but  I  looked  to  see  some  kinsfolk 
hereabouts,  and — the  wagon  won't  go  beyond  Groveton 
if  there's  trouble  ahead.  Those  niggers  are  more  scared 


"IN   THE   TEETH   OP   THE   BRIGADE"  157 

o'  shootin'  than  they  are  of  ghosts.  Yet,  I'd  hoped  to 
reach  Judge  Armistead's  to-night." 

"  Better  think  twice !  If  those  troopers  are  some  of 
Stuart's — scouting — they  might  hold  you  for  examina 
tion."  But  the  general's  eyes  were  following  the  column 
as  he  spoke.  Evidently  he  was  more  interested  in  the 
choice  of  the  regiment  to  be  sent  to  the  right  front  than 
in  the  fortunes  of  the  Virginian.  A  smile  crossed  his 
face  as  a  moment  later  the  Sixth  turned  out  of  column, 
and  silently  he  reined  his  horse  to  the  right  and,  fol 
lowed  by  a  party  of  six,  all  told,  including  orderlies,  rode 
away  on  the  flank.  Jennings,  finding  himself  unhin 
dered,  ambled  in  their  tracks  until,  half  a  mile  out,  they 
reached  the  fork  of  the  road.  Northward  lay  the  dun 
colored  route  to  the  s-tone  house  and  Sudley  Springs ; 
westward,  or  a  little  north  of  west,  the  winding  roadway 
to  Gainesville  and  the  Gaps.  For  a  moment  the  tall  civi- 
ian  sat  irresolute,  then  clapped  his  heels  into  his  lean 
charger's  ribs  and  went  sputtering  after  the  chief. 

"  General,"  said  he,  coming  alongside,  "  I  want  to  say 
one  thing,  suh,  and  it's  this — that  young  gentleman  of 
your  staff  was  so  kind  to  Dr.  Chilton  that  it  completely 
staggered  the  doctor  to  have  him  knocked  down  and 
captured.  He's  bound  to  take  the  best  of  cayuh  of  him 
till  he's  well  enough  to  take  cayuh  of  himself — an' 
then " 

"  Well,  and  then,  Mr.  Jennings  ?  "  asked  the  general, 
impatiently,  for  he  was  eager  to  get  on  ahead. 


158  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

f<  You  look  out  for  his  turning  up  any  day !  If  he 
ain't  exchanged,  I'm  bettin'  somethin'  else  will  happen." 

"  My  understanding  is  that  Dr.  Chilton  has  made 
himself  personally  responsible  for  Mr.  Benton's  safe 
keeping  so  long  as  he's  allowed  to  remain  with 

V  • » 

"  That's  true,  I  reckon,"  answered  Jennings.  "  But," 
and  here  his  lantern  jaws  relaxed  in  whimsical  grin, 
"  the  doctor  ain't  the  only  brainy  one  in  that  family, 
General.  The  girl  that  planned  young  Ladue's  escape 
from  your  fellows  at  Henry  house  may  play  it  on 
EwelFs  folks  at  Gawd'nsville  just  as  easy." 

"  So  you  know  Ewell's  at  Gordonville ! "  said  the 
general,  whirling  suddenly  on  the  speaker.  "  And  you 
know  the  lady  who  got  Mr.  Ferguson  into  his  scrape, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  Gettin'  another  fella  out  o'  one — yes,  suh,"  an 
swered  Jennings,  unflinchingly.  "  And  she  made  a  big 
play  that  night  to  get  still  another  out  of  a  bad  fix — • 
'less  I'm  mistaken.  Why,  General,  you  jus'  ought  to 
heuh  Judge  Armistead  talk  about  that  girl.  He  says 
half  the  men  in  Albemarle,  university  and  all,  were  in 
love  with  her  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  the  judge  has 
a  mighty  pretty  daughter  of  his  own,  too.  I  rather 
hoped  some  of  our  cavalry  might  be  pushin'  out  toward 
Hopewell  to-night.  Ain't  Colonel  Bayard  somewhere 
out  that  way?  Hullo!  There's  a  shot !" 

Not  one  shot  alone,  but  two,  three,  in  quick  succes 
sion.  Somewhere  ahead  among  the  patches  and  thick- 


"IN   THE   TEETH   OP   THE   BRIGADE"  159 

ets  of  scrub  oak  and  pine  the  scattering  advance-guard 
had  suddenly  met  swift  galloping  lads  in  gray.  Then 
came  the  distant  sound  of  half  a  dozen  shots, — carbines, 
— and  the  answering  sputter  of  a  ragged  volley.  At  long 
range,  as  yet,  Badger  afoot  and  Virginian  in  saddle, 
were  saluting  each  other,  and  the  men,  trudging  by 
fours  along  the  winding  roadway,  threw  up  their  heads 
and  picked  up  their  heels,  a  thrill  of  excitement  quiver 
ing  through  the  column.  Well  out  to  the  front  a  bugle 
sounded  some  lively  call,  and,  spurring  full  gallop  from 
the  rear,  the  tall  adjutant  went  bending  and  twisting 
away  among  the  trees  until  out  of  sight  ahead,  and  then 
his  powerful  voice  came  ringing  back :  "  This  way,  Cap 
tain — lively !  Double  quick !  " 

Evidently  Haskell  had  sighted  some  of  the  quarry 
and  closer  at  hand  than  those  ahead  along  the  roadway, 
for  there  came  a  crackle  of  shots, — the  bark  of  the  cav 
alry  weapon,  the  saucy  pop  of  a  revolver  somewhere 
among  the  thickets  to  the  left  of  the  column;  then  a 
shrill  burst  of  cheers  from  the  deploying  blue-coats  on 
the  westward  flank.  All  on  a  sudden,  scrambling 
through  the  bushes  they  had  tumbled  over  a  little  squad 
of  troopers  in  gray,  making  heroic  effort  to  carry  off 
a  helpless  comrade.  The  general  and  his  aides  had 
spurred  in  with  the  skirmishers,  and  were  just  in  time 
to  see  two  riderless  horses  tearing  away  among  the 
trees  across  an  open  glade,  while  half  a  dozen  daring, 
devoted  fellows  in  saddle  were  stoutly  interposing  be 
tween  the  forward  rush  of  the  excited  Badgers  and 


160  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

three  of  their  number  surrounding  and  supporting  a  tall 
officer  who  had  been  lifted  sideways  to  the  back  of  a 
plunging,  snorting,  frightened  steed,  but  who  seemed 
fainting  and  powerless  to  help  himself — or  them. 
"Halt!"  "Halt!"  "Dismount!"  "Surrender!"  rang 
the  hoarse  shouts  of  the  dozen  bluecoats,  dashing  in  pur 
suit.  Bang!  Bang!  came  the  defiant  response  of  the 
few  defenders.  Bang!  Bang!  bellowed  a  brace  of 
Springfields  in  reply,  ill  aimed,  God  be  praised,  in  the 
thrilling  excitement  of  the  moment.  It  seemed  cruel — 
savage  to  shoot  down  such  gallant  fellows  in  their  hope 
less  deed  of  devotion.  "  Don't  shoot !  "  "  Hold  your 
fire!"  yelled  the  general.  "Don't  shoot!"  "Don't 
shoot !  "  echoed  the  staff,  for  the  luckless  cavalier,  reel 
ing  in  his  seat,  went  sliding  into  the  arms  of  his  loyal 
followers,  while  the  devil  of  a  horse  whirled  round,  tug 
ging,  straining  at  the  reins  and  striving  to  break  away. 
"  Dismount !  "  "  Down  with  you  !  "  "  Off  with  you !  " 
cried  the  pursuers,  officer  and  man,  as  another  terrified 
horse  tore,  wildly  neighing,  in  chase  of  the  foremost. 
It  was  a  desperate  effort  on  part  of  the  grays.  Their 
comrade  troopers  were  too  far  off  to  help  them,  even 
could  they  drive  through  the  stout  skirmish  line  already 
far  flung  across  the  field  beyond.  With  a  last  wave 
of  his  white  hand,  the  officer  seemed  ordering  his  de 
fenders  to  save  themselves,  and  those  in  saddle,  with 
parting  shots  and  defiant  yells — one  of  them  even  hurl 
ing  in  rage  his  emptied  revolver  at  the  tall  adjutant, 
the  foremost  man  in  the  rush — darted  away,  bending 


"  IN  THE  TEETH  OF  THE  BRIGADE  "     IQI 

low  over  the  streaming  manes,  with  the  bullets  of  half 
a  score  of  Springfields  whizzing  past  their  ears,  and  only 
a  sad-faced,  silent  little  trio  knelt  about  the  fallen  soldier 
as,  panting  and  triumphant,  the  boys  in  blue  came 
thronging  round  them. 

The  adjutant  was  off  his  big,  raw-boned  bay  in  an  in 
stant  and,  bending  over  the  fainting  man,  unscrewed  the 
cap  of  his  flask  and  held  it  to  the  pale  lips  beneath  the 
sweeping  mustache.  "A  major,  hey?"  he  said,  as  he 
noted  the  brilliant  braids  of  gold  lace  on  the  handsome 
uniform  frock.  "  What  is  a  major  doing  out  here  with 
only  a  squad  of  you  boys  ?  "  and  something  like  pity 
shone  in  his  kindling  eyes,  as  he  looked  up  at  the  beard 
less,  clear-cut,  young  face  of  the  captured  trooper  near 
est  him.  Two  of  the  three  could  not  have  been  more 
than  seventeen,  but  never  a  word  of  complaint  did  they 
utter — not  a  syllable  did  either  speak  in  reply. 

"What  have  you,  Haskell?"  inquired  the  black- 
bearded  general,  riding  in  through  the  group  of  eager, 
almost  sympathetic  soldier  faces. 

"  Don't  know  yet,  General,"  was  the  answer,  as  a 
faint  quiver  ran  through  the  prostrate  form.  "  He  can't 
speak  for  himself,  and  these  young — veterans 
won't." 

"Is  he  wounded?"  asked  the  chief.  "Surely  you 
can  tell  us  that,"  he  added,  presently,  as  he  glanced  at 
the  two  silent  striplings  in  gray.  Then  at  last  one  of 
them  faced  the  commander. 

"  Horse  fell,  suh — rolled  on  him — broke  his  leg,"  said 


162  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

he,  with  a  salute  that  told  unerringly  of  soldier  teach 
ing;  so,  too,  did  the  speaker's  pose.  Instinctively  he 
was  standing  at  attention.  He  knew  the  rank  betrayed 
by  that  yellow  sash. 

"  Give  this  young  gentleman  a  sip  from  your  flask, 

Haskell ;  I  fear  he's Why,  my  lad,  you're  wounded  ! 

Look  to  him,  some  of  you !  "  cried  the  general,  for  the 
boy  had  grown  ashen  pale  and  was  reeling  when  strong 
arms  caught  and  lowered  him. 

"  Sure,  General.  He's  shot  through  the  breast,"  said 
a  bearded  soldier,  tearing  aside  the  trooper's  jacket  and 
displaying  a  blood-wet  shirt  beneath. 

"  And  wouldn't  show  it,"  answered  the  general. 
"  That's  the  way  with  them.  Send  for  a  surgeon,  Cap 
tain."  And  then  the  general,  too,  was  off  his  horse  and 
bending  over  the  stricken  lad.  "  Do  you  know  his  name 
— and  home  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  pale-faced  young  Vir 
ginian,  standing  trembling  a  bit  with  excitement  beside 
him.  The  lad  flushed,  looked  distressed,  embarrassed, 
but  seemed  to  believe  it  his  soldier  duty  to  give  no  in 
formation  whatever  to  the  enemy.  It  was  Jennings 
who  spoke,  his  voice  breaking  harshly,  somehow,  on 
the  silence  of  the  surrounding  group,  as  he  elbowed  a 
way  through  the  curious  circle  and  caught  sight  of  the 
swooning  boy. 

"  I  know  him,  General.  He's  one  of  our  best,  suh," 
and  now  Jennings,  too,  had  thrown  himself  upon  his 
knees.  "  It's  Floyd  Pelham,  suh,  of  Charlottesville. 
It'll  break  his  mother's  heaht,  suh,  if  he's  done  for." 


"IN  THE   TEETH   OF  THE   BRIGADE"  153 

The  wail  in  the  Virginian's  voice  seemed  to  catch  the 
ear  and  rouse  the  faculties  of  the  reviving  officer. 

"Who's  that— done  for?"  he  faintly  asked.  "Not 
Floyd  Pelham  ?  "  And  bracing  his  hands  upon  the  turf, 
he  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture,  while  Jennings  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  stared. 

"  Major  Lounsberry !  Good  God,  suh,  you  wounded, 
too?  Why,  I'd  no  idea " 

"  No  idea,  I  suppose,"  interposed  the  major,  with  cut 
ting,  sarcastic  emphasis,  "  that  your  friends,  the  Chil- 
tons,  had  turned  that  Yankee  lieutenant  loose.  Well, 
you  needn't  rejoice,  gentlemen,  we've  got  him  again — 
and  right  in  the  teeth  of  his  own  brigade ! " 


CHAPTER    XIII 

RIVANNA   TO    RAPIDAN 

Long  as  he  lives  Fred  Benton  will  never  forget  that 
night  ride  from  the  Chiltons  and  the  thrilling  days  that 
followed.  Imperiously  had  Queen  Rosalie  dismissed 
him.  Impulsively  had  she  turned  away,  refusing  further 
look,  touch  or  word.  Her  door  closed  behind  her,  and 
he  well  knew  she  meant  her  mandate  to  be  final.  "  Not 
a  second  to  lose !  "  Even  now  he  should  have  been  far 
up  toward  the  mountains.  Yet  the  doctor  was  again 
stirring  uneasily  about  his  room  below.  The  light 
burned  dimly  in  the  lower  hall.  Pomp  had  disappeared 
from  the  window — small  task  was  it  for  that  agile  imp 
to  climb  a  lightning  "  rawd"  !  But,  groping  back  to  his 
room,  Benton  heard  again  the  stamp  of  hoofs  beneath 
the  window  and  muttered  words  and  a  sound  as  of 
straining  over  some  unresponsive,  inanimate  burden. 
Then  something  heaved  up  through  the  dim  starlight 
and  lightly  tapped  against  the  clapboards  below  the  sill, 
and  something  black  came  "  swarming  "  up  the  other 
something — Pomp  again,  and  Pomp  chuckled  at  sound 
of  Benton's  whispered  hail. 

"  We've  got  a  ladder  dis  time,  suh.  Didn't  dass  try 
it  befo'  wid  dem  sojus  at  de  bahn,"  and  by  ladder,  not  by 


RIVANNA   TO   RAPIDAN  165 

lightning  rod,  was  the  descent  accomplished.  Dusky 
hands  helped  the  crippled  soldier  into  saddle.  Dusky 
hands  waved  him  good-by  and  good  luck.  Darky  voices 
muttered  blessings  for  the  astonishing  feel  of  gold  in 
dusky  palms — for  Benton  would  not  ride  until  he  had 
rewarded — and  then,  never  knowing  until  long,  long 
after  what  chattel  it  was  that  aided  Pomp  in  aiding  him 
to  mount,  never  seeking  to  know  until  the  dawn  whose 
was  the  dusky  hand  that  took  his  bridle  rein  and  led 
him  cautiously  away  through  the  darkness,  Benton  lifted 
up  his  brave  heart  in  brief,  silent  prayer  for  heaven's 
blessing  on  those  that  dwelt  within  that  house,  for 
heaven's  guidance  on  his  way,  and  gave  himself  un 
questioning  to  him  whom  she,  his  imperious  queen,  had 
appointed  as  his  guide,  and  together  they  rode  forth  into 
the  murmuring  night. 

Through  leafy  lanes,  until  clear  of  the  village,  across 
a  broad  high-road  into  dark  depths  beyond,  over  a  slop 
ing  pasture  where,  studying  the  stars  on  high,  Benton 
first  took  note  that  they  were  heading  westward  again, 
twisting  and  turning  through  winding  woodpath,  ever 
accompanied  by  the  clamor  of  watch-dogs  not  yet  recon 
ciled  to  night  patrols.  Twice  compelled  to  let  down  bars 
and  squeeze  through  half-opened  barnyard  gates,  his 
silent  conductor  led  on  and  Benton  followed,  until  even 
the  dogs  of  the  suburbs  were  left  behind  and  they,  the 
fugitives,  had  found  the  open  country.  Then  at  last  his 
escort  turned  and  said:  "  Kin  you  stand  a  little  canter, 
Marstuh  ?  "  and  Benton  recognized  the  voice  of  Dusky 


166  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Dan,  and  "  stood  "  accordingly.  They  forded,  some 
where  toward  two  o'clock,  a  little  branch,  a  tributary  of 
the  rushing  Rivanna,  and  were  still  heading  westward 
when  Fred's  darky  guide  left  him  with  both  horses  at 
the  edge  of  a  grove,  while  he  went  forward  afoot  and 
reconnoitred.  Presently  he  came  back  rejoiceful.  "  Dey 
ain't  a  soul  a  lookin'  out  fo'  de  bridge,  suh.  Dey's  all 
over  Gawd'nsville  way.  We  save  nigh  onto  five  miles 
hyuh,"  and  so  led  on  again,  the  hoof-beats  sounding 
hollow  on  the  planking  of  some  old-time  truss  across  a 
swift,  exuberant  mountain  stream,  running  bank  full  and, 
far  and  near,  said  Dan,  unfordable.  Still  on  through 
whispering  aisles  of  forest  trees,  through  squashy  cross 
country  bridle  paths,  far  from  pike  or  toll  road;  only 
at  rare  intervals,  now,  stirring  the  challenge  of  some 
farmer's  dog,  and  never  seeing  habitation  of  any  kind 
until,  just  as  the  dawn  was  faintly  lighting  the  placid 
eastern  sky,  clean  swept  of  every  cloud,  old  Daniel  led 
his  soldier  charge  from  the  beaten  track,  and  turning 
square  to  the  left  began  a  tortuous  climb  that  brought 
them  presently  into  an  open  pasture,  half  way  up  a 
line  of  wooded  heights,  and  there,  faintly  visible  at 
the  upper  side  of  the  clearing,  were  two  little  cabins 
with  an  outlying  shed  and  some  ramshackle  fences,  and 
here,  while  Benton  was  made  comfortable  in  his  blanket 
with  his  feet  to  a  fire,  Dan  held  converse  with  other  un 
seen  occupants,  giving  explicit  directions,  faintly  audible 
in  the  hiss  of  frying  bacon  and  the  bubble  of  boiling 
coffee.  Benton  heard  vaguely,  drowsily,  the  words 


RIVANNA  TO  RAPIDAN  167 

"  Swift  Run  Gap,  Sperryville,  Ohleans,  Hedgman 
River  "  and  when  he  roused  himself  in  response  to  vig 
orous  yet  regretful  prodding,  he  knew  not  how  long 
thereafter,  a  new  voice  sounded  on  his  sleepy  senses. 
Another  guardian  bent  over  him  in  the  shape  of  a  negro 
with  wrinkled  face  and  gray-white,  kinky  hair,  but  a 
world  of  sympathy  and  interest  in  his  sombre  eyes. 
Marstuh's  breakfast  was  spoiling  and  it  was  time  that 
they  were  moving.  Where  was  Daniel  ?  "  Daniel  had 
to  go  back  to  Marse  Chilton's.  Miss  Rosalie  done  fixed 
all  dat." 

And  so,  while  Benton  drank  a  huge  tin  of  steaming 
coffee  and  ate  hungrily  at  the  rashers  and  "  aigs  "  pro 
vided  for  him,  his  new  attendant  explained  the  situation. 
For  years  he  had  belonged  to  Marse  Chilton,  but  when 
he  married  a  lass  on  the  Lounsberry  place,  and  by  and 
by  the  chil'luns  began  to  grow,  Marse  Chilton  found 
him  of  less  use  than  ever  and  swapped  him  off.  And 
then  he'd  been  Marse  Lounsberry's  coachman,  and  then 
was  put  in  charge  of  Marse  Pelham's  "  stawk,"  and 
finally  he  and  his  ole  woman  were  moved  up  here  into 
the  mountains  to  take  care  of  the  cattle  of  certain  fan 
ciers  who  had  prudently  shifted  their  Jerseys  and  Ayr- 
shires  to  the  hills  rather  than  see  them  requisitioned  by 
a  commissariat  that  already  had  begun  to  find  its  limi 
tations  in  the  matter  of  fresh  beef.  His  big  boy  Hector 
was  "  groomin'  hawses,"  and  from  this  point  would 
lead  him  on  up  the  east  face  of  the  range  until  near  the 
Hedgman.  He  knew  that  country  well,  whereas  old 


168  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Dan  did  not,  and  the  latter  had  to  hurry  home  so  that 
he  might  show  about  the  Chilton  place  as  usual.  Miss 
Rosalie  had  ordered  that,  too.  They  would  do  anything 
in  the  world  for  her — or  for  the  doctor. 

But  Mars'r  ought  to  have  been  beyond  the  Gap  road 
— Swift  Run  Gap — before  sun-up  and  now  'twas  long 
after,  but  Hector  knew  the  Ridge  and  a  host  of  places 
to  hide  if  need  be.  Hector  had  a  sweetheart  on 
the  Hazel  whom  he  greatly  longed  to  see — for  whose 
sake  more  than  thrice  had  he  run  the  gauntlet  to  her 
welcoming  arms,  and  so,  once  more,  but  in  broad  day 
light  now,  and  well  up  along  the  heights,  with  magnifi 
cent  vistas  of  eastward  Virginia  almost  every  hour,  they 
came  at  last  in  view  of  the  twisting  mountain  road  that 
pierced  the  range — Jackson's  runway  from  the  Shenan- 
doah  down  to  Gordonsville — and  here  again  Fred  lurked 
in  hiding,  while  Hector  scrambled  down  afoot  to  try  the 
pass. 

Thus  far  the  danger  had  been  slight.  Between  Rock- 
fish  and  Swift  Run  Gaps  there  lay  few  roads  through 
which  scouting  parties  would  be  apt  to  come.  Brown's 
and  Powell's  Gaps  were  then  but  little  used.  The  Blue 
Ridge  served  as  a  screen  or  barrier  to  their  left.  The 
line  of  communication  of  the  Southern  army  was  far 
over  along  the  railway  to  the  east.  Jackson  and  his 
nimble-footed  brigades  were  still  some  distance  down 
the  Shenandoah  to  the  north,  but  Hector  had  heard 
"  old  Stonewall "  was  retiring  before  overwhelming 
/lumbers,  and  that  a  lot  of  his  soldiers  were  already  at 


RIVANNA   TO   RAPIDAN  169 

work  over  on  the  west  side,  throwing  up  fortifications, 
and  couriers  kept  coming  and  going  between  him  and 
"  Marse  "  Ewell  down  at  "  Gawd'nsville."  Benton  still 
wore  the  uniform  coat  and  riding  breeches  in  which  he 
had  been  captured,  though  a  sleeve  was  slit  and  a  shoul 
der-strap  had  been  ripped  off.  His  forage  cap,  too,  a 
jaunty  affair  of  the  McClellan  type,  had  been  missing 
since  the  fight  at  the  stone  house,  and  he  was  sporting 
a  black,  broad-brimmed  felt  hat  that  had  done  duty  in 
Jack  Chilton's  university  days.  Horse,  horse  equip 
ments,  Grimsley  valise,  and  all  items  attached  to  the 
saddle,  of  course,  were  gone,  but  he  still  had  his  field- 
glass.  A  pair  of  the  doctor's  old  saddle-bags  slung  on 
his  horse  seemed  bulging  with  sundries  he  had  not  yet 
had  time  to  inspect.  A  blanket  and  poncho,  "  treasure 
trove  "  of  Manassas  the  First,  were  strapped  on  the 
spare  horse,  together  with  a  canteen  marked  U.  S.,  and 
that  canteen  Hector  had  replenished  at  a  mountain 
brook  only  an  hour  agone.  With  their  bits  slipped  and 
their  fore  feet  hoppled,  the  horses  were  placidly  brows 
ing  among  the  bushes  close  at  hand,  and  there  for  over 
an  hour  this  sunshiny  April  morning  the  lonely  Union 
soldier  watched  and  waited,  and  over  and  again  mar 
velled  at  the  generalship  of  the  girl  who  had  managed 
every  detail  connected  with  his  escape.  Only  that  one 
evening  did  she  have  in  which  to  prepare,  yet  saddle 
bags  were  secured  and  packed,  blanket  and  poncho  pro 
vided,  horses  "  borrowed  "  by  Black  Dan,  with  the  con 
nivance  of  a  colored  retainer,  from  the  Pelham  pasti  e 


170  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

» 
within  pistol  shot  of  the  'varsity  grounds  (to  take  their 

own  would  have  lent  too  much  color  to  the  theory  that 
the  doctor  connived),  their  very  route  mapped  out  and 
determined,  and  all  this  by  a  Virginia  maid  yet  in  her 
teens,  already  the  planner  of  Paul  Ladue's  escape — al 
ready  the  heroine  of  a  perilous  midnight  masquerade 
the  object  of  which  was  still  wrapped  in  tormenting 
mystery. 

If  she  would  but  condescend — if  he  could  but  induce 
her  to  account  for  that,  what  might  it  not  mean  to  Ben- 
ton!  Only  once  had  he  ventured  to  begin  to  suggest 
that  explanation  was  something  due  to  herself,  when  she 
lifted  up  her  eyes  and  then  her  queenly  little  head,  and 
just  looked  at  him,  and  that  ended  further  questioning. 

Ten  o'clock  had  come,  so  said  his  watch,  before  Hec 
tor  reappeared,  big-eyed,  panting.  There  were  two 
hundred  soldiers  to  the  west  of  the  Gap  digging  forts, 
a  squad  in  every  farmhouse  along  the  road,  and  about 
as  much  chance  of  a  Yankee  officer  crossing  in  daylight 
as  there  was  "  of  a  needle's  eye  a-gittin'  into  heaven." 
Hector  had  been  piously  taught  at  some  time  in  his  life 
— and  now  he  looked  at  the  blue  and  the  brass  buttons 
in  dismay. 

Benton  thought  it  over.  The  guard  were  to  come  for 
him  at  six,  and  long  ere  this  had  discovered  his  escape. 
Pursuit  and  search  would  of  course  be  made.  "  Any 
body  own  bloodhounds  around  Charlottesville  ? "  he 
asked,  and  Hector  said  "  No."  Still  Dan  had  gone 
back,  Dan  might  be  lashed  and  tortured  until  he  re- 


RIVANNA   TO   RAPIDAN  171 

vealed  what  he  knew — such  things  had  happened — and 
the  sooner  Benton  reached  the  upper  waters  of  the  Rap- 
pahannock  and  secure  hiding  places  back  of  Warrenton, 
known  to  Hector,  the  better  it  would  be  for  him — 
for  all.  He  doubted  not  that  by  noon  couriers  would 
come  galloping  out  from  Gordonsville  telling  of  his  es 
cape  and  ordering  guards  and  sentries  on  the  lookout 
everywhere  along  the  Gap. 

"  Not  a  second  to  lose !  "  He  sprang  to  the  saddle 
bags  and  began  a  search.  What  had  occurred  to  him 
would  probably  have  occurred  to  her,  and  it  was  Miss 
Rosalie,  Dan  affirmed,  who  packed  them.  With  eager 
hands  Benton  pulled  at  the  contents  of  the  nearmost — a 
flask  of  brandy  from  the  doctor's  store,  towel,  handker 
chiefs,  sponge,  soap,  comb  and  brush,  socks,  shirt  and 
underwear — Jack's,  of  course,  and  probably  a  tight  fit; 
small  tin  boxes  containing  ground  coffee,  sugar  and 
other  things — no  time  to  examine  now!  an  extra  sling 
and  bandage  for  his  arm;  boot  hooks!  Think  of  a 
woman  who  would  think  of  them !  Then  came  a  shout 
from  Hector,  rummaging  on  the  other  side,  and  over 
the  broad  back  of  Marse  Pelham's  old  Pyramus  came  a 
worn  gray  sack  coat  and  waistcoat,  of  Richmond  make, 
and  pinned  to  the  lapel  a  scrap  of  paper  on  which  in 
pencil  appeared  in  Roman  characters,  not  script,  these 
words :  "  Map  and  spectacles  in  coat  pocket.  Small 
pistol  also.  Look  out  for  Federals  about  Warrenton. 
Strip  gold  cord." 

Gold  cord?    Why,  yes,  that  meant  the  narrow  gold 


172  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

braid  worn  in  the  war  days  on  the  seam  of  the  trousers 
by  general  and  staff  officers.  Small  compliment  to  him 
was  it  that  she  should  think  it  necessary  to  remind  him 
of  that.  Yet,  how  sweet — how  sweet  it  was  to  see  how 
she  planned  and  thought  for  him ! 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  a  tall,  pale-faced,  studious- 
looking  young  man  in  spectacles,  slouch  hat  and  worn 
sack  coat  of  gray — thrown  loosely  over  a  slung  right 
arm — with  a  dark-brown  horse,  a  doctor's  saddle-bags 
and  a  darky  follower  on  a  nondescript  nag,  turned  de 
liberately  from  a  mountain  path  and  took  the  highway 
to  the  eastward,  for  all  the  world  as  though  he  were 
bound  for  Stanardsville  or  beyond.  A  few  rods  further 
the  road  twisted  to  the  left  and  brought  him  in  view  of 
a  mountain  cabin,  close  to  a  watering  trough  where  a 
squad  of  soldiers  in  queer-looking  frock  coats  of  dingy 
gray  were  filling  their  canteens.  Another  of  their  num 
ber,  sick  and  dejected,  was  squatting  on  the  steps,  his 
sallow  face  the  picture  of  woe.  "  Gawt  any  physic  that 
will  cure  the  cawlic,  dawktuh  ?  "  drawled  a  sun-tanned 
young  fellow  in  sergeant's  stripes,  and  the  doctor  reined 
in,  studied  the  patient  attentively  one  moment,  then 
swung  out  of  saddle  and  stepped  to  his  side.  Asking  no 
questions,  he  gravely  felt  the  pulse  and  glanced  at  the 
coated  tongue,  smiled  quietly  to  himself  and,  while  Hec 
tor  held  the  horses,  fumbled  a  minute  at  the  saddle-bags, 
stirred  a  compound  into  a  stone  china  cup  that  stood 
by  the  trough — a  compound  whereof  powdered  sugar, 
spring  water  and  Spiritus  Vini  Gallici  were  the  sole  in- 


RIVANNA   TO   RAPIDAN  173 

gradients,  and  in  three  minutes  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  light  of  reviving  interest  in  life  in  the  dull  eyes 
of  the  invalid  and  receiving  the  plaudits  of  half  a  dozen 
would-be  patients.  Gladly  would  they  have  held  him, 
though  from  no  hostile  intent,  as,  with  apparent  serenity 
yet  with  thumping  heart,  he  rode  away.  He  had  heard 
enough  to  make  it  expedient  that  he  should  move  at 
once. 

"  You're  the  first  dawktuh  we've  seen  since  we  left 
home,  'cept  those  in  the  army,  suh,"  said  the  young  ser 
geant.  "  Guess  they  need  'em  all." 

"  You're  not  Virginian,  then,"  hazarded  Benton,  as 
he  was  mounting. 

"  No,  suh — Fifteenth  Alabama,  Trimble's  brigade, 
suh.  We  b'long  down  at  Gawd'nsville,  but  they  sent  a 
few  companies  out  this  way  last  night." 

"Know  any  of  the  Eleventh?"  queried  Benton, 
rashly,  yet  thinking  it  not  unwise  to  display  some  knowl 
edge  of  the  Southern  service — "  Lieutenant  Ladue,  of 
Mobile  ?  "  he  continued  at  a  venture. 

"  Not  many,  suh.  They're  all  with  General  Long- 
street  and  Anderson  down  toward  Yohktown." 

"  Lieutenant  Ladue  ain't !  "  said  the  sick  man,  uplift 
ing  his  sallow  face.  "  He's  on  General  Ewell's  staff — 
made  me  ride  his  hawse  this  mornin'  an'  he  ain't  a  mile 
away  this  minute." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THROUGH  THE  MESH  OF  THE  FOE 

Late  that  evening  two  tired  steeds  were  painfully 
struggling  up  a  stony,  winding  pathway  among  the 
heights  at  the  headwaters  of  the  Hazel.  Dodging  ham 
lets  and  settlements,  fording  branch  after  branch  of  the 
Rapidan,  keeping  ever  to  the  wood-path  and  by-ways, 
Fred's  black  guide  at  last  had  landed  him  in  a  sheltered 
nook  among  the  hills,  just  as  darkness  settled  down  over 
the  wild  beauty  of  the  woodland  scenery,  and  the  twink 
ling  stars  came  peeping  into  the  eastward  sky.  Here  in 
a  little  amphitheatre  of  rock  and  cedar  and  stunted  pine, 
Hector  sprang  from  his  dejected  beast,  whose  drooping 
head  and  jaded  withers  told  of  the  trials  of  the  day, 
helped  Benton  to  alight,  whipped  off  the  saddles  and  set 
to  work  to  build  a  little  fire  in  a  blackened  corner,  evi 
dently  often  put  to  similar  use  in  the  past.  The  beasts 
had  had  their  fill  of  water  when  they  forded  the  Hazel 
and  were  soon  rolling  in  infinite  relief  on  the  scanty  turf. 
Then  the  battered  tin  was  filled  from  the  canteen  and 
set  to  boil  for  coffee.  Some  pine  boughs  were  shaken 
down,  and  Fred's  blanket  spread.  Then  away  went  Hec 
tor  to  refill  the  canteen  and  get  such  news  as  he  could. 
It  was  late,  near  nine  o'clock,  when  he  came  back  laden 


THROUGH  THE  MESH  OP  THE  FOE      175 

— oats  for  the  horses,  corn  dodgers  for  their  riders  and 
big  news  for  Fred.  The  Yankees  were  pushing  forward 
in  heavy  columns  along  the  Rappahannock,  moving  per 
haps  on  Culpeper.  Yankee  troopers  had  been  scouting 
that  morning  about  Fauquier  Springs  and  Waterloo, 
barely  fifteen  miles  away.  If  all  went  well  and  the 
horses  weren't  lame  in  the  morning,  they  could  be  off 
at  dawn  and  feel  their  way  round  back  of  the  Cross 
Roads  and  Washington  Coht  House,  cross  the  North 
Fork — the  Hedgman — way  up  among  the  hills,  and  then 
work  eastward  until  they  fell  in  with  the  Yankee  cavalry 
that  ought  to  be  out  on  the  right  flank  of  McDowell's 
advance.  Hector  had  a  friend  who  could  "  baw  "  a  mule 
and  meet  them  at  the  ford  of  the  Thornton  back  of 
Sperryville,  and  show  a  way  to  the  Hedgman.  After 
that  if  Hector  was  to  go  back,  Benton  would  have  to 
shift  for  himself. 

If  only  Stuart's  fellows,  now,  or  some  other  Southern 
cavalry  weren't  scouting  the  lower  fords  and  wood- 
roads,  interposing  between  them  and  the  Yankee  out 
posts  at  Warrenton,  all  might  go  well. 

And  so,  wearied  yet  refreshed  and  full  of  hope,  Fred 
Benton  slept  until  aroused  by  the  din  of  dogs  among 
the  farms  below  them.  It  was  just  at  the  chill  of  the 
earliest  dawn.  A  whip-poor-will  was  piping  his  weird 
chant  in  the  thickets  on  the  northward  side,  and  from 
that  day  until  long  years  thereafter  he  could  never  hear 
the  harmless,  mournful  plaint  without  a  thrill  of  anxiety, 
if  not  dismay,  for  from  far  down  among  the  scattered 


!76  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

settlements  there  came  floating  to  him  on  the  still, 
morning  air,  quick,  stirring  and  spirited  the  soft  trumpet 
notes  of  the  cavalry  reveille,  played  just  as  he  had 
heard  it  played  four  successive  mornings  on  that  ambu 
lance  journey  to  the  railway,  and  he  knew  these  were 
not  the  blue-jackets  of  Bayard,  but  beyond  doubt  the 
grays.  The  plumes  of  Stuart  might  have  been  wafted 
away  to  meet  the  new  danger  along  the  York,  but  Ben- 
ton  had  heard  enough  at  the  Chiltons'  to  know  that 
skilled  leaders  of  horse,  with  hosts  of  daring  fellows, 
were  still  close  at  hand, — Turner  Ashby  in  the  Valley  or 
Beverly  Robertson  in  front  of  Ewell  at  Gordonsville. 
Now,  what  could  this  mean  but  that  the  squadron  had 
bivouacked  far  out  on  their  flank,  far  north,  too,  of  the 
Confederate  positions  below  the  Rapidan,and  was  scout 
ing  these  mountain  by-paths,  perhaps  in  search  of  him? 
To  Robertson  and  men  of  his  rank  the  game  might  not 
be  worth  the  candle,  but  there  was  that  strangely  vin 
dictive  fellow  Lounsberry,  armed  with  power  to  order 
hither  and  yon.  The  dawn  came  in  with  rose  and 
gold  and  royal  purple,  but  the  day  looked  dark  for 
Benton. 

Rousing  Hector,  who  still  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just 
and  the  weary,  he  told  him  of  the  new  danger,  and  the 
darky's  eyes  bulged  in  their  sockets.  He  was  up  and 
well  scared  in  less  than  no  time  and,  taking  Benton's 
glass,  disappeared  among  the  rocks  and  trees  up  the 
hillside  to  the  west.  There  was  a  lookout,  he  said,  in 
the  branches  of  an  oak,  from  which  much  of  the  country 


THROUGH  THE  MESH  OF  THE  FOE      177 

could  be  seen  to  the  southeast.  It  was  full  twenty 
minutes  later  and  just  after  Benton  had  heard  the  dis 
tant  signal  "  boots  and  saddles  "  from  the  same  trumpet, 
when  he  came  scrambling  down.  No  time  for  coffee, 
no  time  for  feeding  or  rubbing  the  horses,  he  said.  Like 
as  not  these  troopers  would  be  out  searching  every  by 
path.  He  had  seen  them  doing  that  after  the  first  Bull 
Run  when  a  dozen  Yankee  prisoners  broke  away  from 
the  cars  at  night  and  skipped  for  the  mountains.  They 
had  all  but  two  of  them  back  inside  of  twelve  hours. 
Hurriedly  saddling,  Hector  then  aided  his  charge  to 
mount;  then  again  led  the  way,  crooked  and  devious, 
through  all  manner  of  scrub  and  tangle ;  threading  ra 
vines,  skirting  clearings  and  creeping  ever  higher  to 
ward  the  crest  until  the  foothills  at  last  were  left  far 
below,  and  by  the  edge  of  a  little  brook  that  furnished 
cool  and  abundant  water  for  man  and  beast  they  stopped 
for  breakfast — coffee,  cold  corn  dodgers,  and  slices  of 
bacon  frizzled  on  the  point  of  a  stick  for  the  masters 
and  the  last  of  the  oats  for  the  four-footed  slaves.  Then 
on  again  northward,  and,  so  tortuous  was  their  way,  so 
many  were  the  halts,  making  on  a  bee  line  little  more 
than  a  mile  an  hour,  they  bored  through  the  wilderness 
until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  from  a  bare  projecting  ledge, 
they  obtained  their  first  unimpeded  view  to  the  east 
ward,  and  saw  the  North  Fork,  the  Hedgman,  like  a  sil 
ver  thread,  winding  away  southeastward  through  copses 
and  clearings,  and  among  the  wooded  heights  toward 
Warrenton,  and  all  the  lovely  rural  landscape  of  Fau- 


178  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

quier  spread  before  them  like  a  map.  Who  now  were 
masters  there — the  Blue  or  the  Gray? 

That  night  the  moon,  half  full  but  brilliant,  stood  high 
toward  the  zenith  as  the  whip-poor-wills  began  their 
vesper  Miserere.  By  midnight  it  would  sink  behind  the 
Blue  Ridge,  and  Benton  ordered  "  forward  "  while  the 
faint  light  lasted,  despite  Hector's  demurrer.  He  didn't 
know  the  Hedgman  fords,  he  said,  and  they'd  find  cav 
alry  everywhere  along  the  stream.  They  wouldn't  waste 
so  many  horsemen  looking  for  one  man,  said  Benton, 
but  Hector  could  tell  the  time  when  as  many  as  two 
hundred  were  out  after  one  poor  nigger,  though  he 
failed  to  say  what  the  fugitive  had  done  to  make  him 
so  generally  sought.  Hector  declared  they  "  might 
treat  Marse  Benton  decent  enough  if  they  cotched  him," 
but  what  concerned  Hector  most,  and  not  unnaturally, 
was  the  treatment  that  would  be  meted  out  to  Benton's 
colored  guide  and  helper.  Hector  had  heard  terrific 
tales  of  what  had  befallen  certain  of  his  color  and  condi 
tion  that  had  aided  Ossawatomie  Brown  at  Harper's 
Ferry — exaggerated  tales,  no  doubt,  yet  not  contra 
dicted  because  it  might  be  just  as  well  to  let  the  darkies 
know  the  penalty  of  lending  aid  to  the  enemy.  "  Dey'd 
flog  me  to  death,  suh,  or  burn  my  eyes  out,"  he  pleaded. 
But  Benton  was  firm.  They  must  try  to  cross  the 
Hedgman  while  the  moon  served,  then  hide  in  the 
woods  on  the  further  shore  until  the  dawn  of  another 
day. 

A  scrambly  ride  was  that  to  the  lowlands,  but  toward 


THROUGH   THE   MESH   OF  THE  FOE  179 

ten  o'clock  they  struck  a  wood-path,  and  began  to  stir 
the  dogs  of  scattered  homesteads  in  the  foot-hills.  No 
main  travelled  roads  were  to  be  found  in  this  region, 
but  even  the  bridle  paths  might  be  guarded  by  cavalry, 
andjust  as  the  moon  was  sinking  behind  the  ridge  and 
they  fancied  they  could  hear  the  soothing  murmur  of 
swift  waters,  a  sudden  turn  of  the  path  brought  them 
to  the  edge  of  a  cleared  field  and  in  view  of  a  scattered 
shed  or  two.  Then  came  double  challenge.  First  the 
impudent  snarl  and  dash  of  a  brace  of  back  country 
mongrels ;  then  the  stern  "  Halt  thar !  Dismount !  "  of 
a  cavalry  vedette,  starting  from  the  shadow  of  a  clump 
of  stunted  trees,  not  fifty  feet  away. 

Before  Hector,  limp  and  trembling,  could  slip  to 
earth  in  obedience  to  the  order,  Benton's  hand  was  on 
his  arm,  lugging  him  back  into  saddle,  while  his  heels 
made  vigorous  play.  "  Stoop  low,  you  fool,  and  fol 
low  !  "  he  swore  between  his  set  teeth  as  he  whirled  his 
horse  about  and  at  plunging  gallop  tore  westward  again 
by  the  way  they  came.  A  shot  rang  out  on  the  night. 
A  bullet  went  whizzing  into  the  shrubbery,  but  before 
the  solitary  sentry  could  reload,  or  the  men  from  the 
picket  reach  him,  Benton  and  Hector  were  four  hun 
dred  yards  away  back  along  the  wood-path  and  heading 
through  the  darkness  for  the  higher  refuge  of  the  hills. 
Unwittingly  they  struck  a  northward-bending  path  at  an 
unseen  fork,  and  there,  as  no  sound  of  pursuit  reached 
them,  Benton  bade  Hector  cease  his  terrific  heeling  of 
his  horse's  ribs,  and  gladly  enough  the  half-blown  beasts 


180  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

came  down  to  heaving  walk.  The  ill  luck  that  had  led 
them  into  the  maw  of  the  outermost  picket  of  the  Con 
federate  force  turned  to  blessing  when,  near  midnight, 
they  found  themselves  at  an  unguarded  reach  of  this 
far-away  branch  of  the  Rappahannock,  and  the  thirsting 
horses,  eager  for  drink,  found  their  own  ford  to  the 
other  shore. 

Then  came  a  night  of  broken  sleep ;  then  a  long  day 
of  cautious  prowling  toward  the  line  of  heights  to  the 
eastward — the  Bull  Run  mountains,  as  Benton's  map 
declared  them.  They  did  not  faint  or  starve,  for  scat 
tered  field  hands  brought  them  pone  and  "  poke  "  and 
buttermilk  at  sight  of  Hector's  silver.  Some  of  them 
had  not  seen  a  dime  since  Christmas  of  a  year  gone  by. 
They  brought  them  further  tidings  of  Yankee  horsemen 
in  blue,  hundreds  of  them,  scouting  all  round  here  two 
days  ago,  and  then  riding  away  to  Warrenton,  and  then 
of  small  parties  of  gray-coated  gentlemen  the  very  next 
day  popping  across  the  Hedgman  at  every  ford  and 
bridge,  picking  up  Yankee  stragglers  and  running  them 
off  to  Gawd'nsville,  and  of  a  tall,  fine-looking  gentleman, 
with  lots  of  buttons  and  gold  lace  and  beautiful  sword 
and  sash  and  spurs — "  didn't  look  lak  he'd  been  doin' 
any  hahd  fightin'  " — and  he  and  his  people  were  asking 
everywhere  for  such  a  gentleman  as  this  with  Hector. 
Then  Lounsberry  was  still  between  him  and  the  Union 
lines ! 

That  night  they  slept,  or  rather  waked,  in  a  barn  some 
distance  south  of  Salem,  hidden  by  friendly  darkies,  for 


THROUGH  THE  MESH  OP  THE  FOE      181 

now  Hector  feared  to  return.  He  felt  sure  that  his  con 
nection  with  Benton's  escape  was  known,  and  that  dire 
punishment  awaited  him.  He  would  unite  his  fortunes 
with  those  of  his  new  master,  and  be  his  groom  and 
hostler  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  Union  cavalry  had  been 
trotting  to  and  fro  on  the  pike  between  the  two  Gaps, 
Manassas  and  Thoroughfare,  until  yesterday,  whispered 
their  darky  entertainers — who  stole  cheerfully  from  lar 
der  and  kitchen  of  the  nearest  farmers  in  order  to  min 
ister  to  their  wants — but  now,  unaccountably,  it  was  all 
"  Secesh  "  again,  though  there  were  only  a  few.  A 
young  negro  promised  to  fetch  a  mule  at  four  in  the 
morning  and  guide  them  over  the  hills  toward  New 
Baltimore,  eastward, — they  dare  not  try  the  roads,  or 
Thoroughfare  Gap — and  from  New  Baltimore,  once 
across  the  Warrenton  Pike,  Benton  hoped  to  be  able  to 
reach  the  Union  lines.  True  to  his  word  and  his  hopes 
of  reward,  the  young  fellow  roused  them  an  hour  before 
the  dawn  and  had  them  clear  of  the  valley  roads  before 
sun-up.  Then  from  the  heights  back  of  the  Warrenton 
pike  Benton  scoured  the  low  ground  toward  Manassas 
with  his  glasses,  and  only  far  south  of  Broad  Run  could 
he  see  sign  of  cavalry  of  any  kind,  and  so,  bidding  their 
latest  guide  adieu,  he  and  his  faithful  Hector  rode  hope 
fully — yet  slowly,  for  the  beasts  were  leg  weary — down 
from  the  wooded  range  toward  the  long  seam  through 
the  open  country,  the  once  well-travelled  high-road  to 
the  lovely  old  county  seat  of  Fauquier.  They  were  look 
ing  for  abandoned  shack,  cabin  or  barn  where  they  could 


182  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

hide  until  twilight,  then,  with  fairly  level  country  to 
traverse  and  the  moon  to  light  the  way,  they  might 
cross  the  pike  unseen  and,  skirting  Broad  Run  for  a  dis 
tance,  reach  the  pickets  about  Bristoe  or  Manassas  be 
fore  another  sun. 

And  so,  while  still  well  up  above  the  level  of  the  low 
lands,  they  were  baiting  their  horses  and  having  a  frugal 
lunch  in  an  old  cowshed,  when  toward  noon  their 
startled  ears  caught  the  sound  of  hoof-beats  on  the  hill 
side,  and  there  came  shambling  into  sight  a  wild-eyed 
negro,  one  of  their  friends  of  the  night  before,  on  a 
remonstrant  mule.  "  Run,  Marse !  "  he  cried,  at  sight 
of  Benton.  "  Run,  fo'  Gawd's  sake !  Dey's  a  hundred 
sojers  huntin'  every  house  an'  bahn  just  over  the  hill, 
suh,  and  comin'  dis  way !  "  There  was  nothing  for  it 
now  but  mount  and  away — a  stern  chase  was  a  long  one, 
anyhow. 

Then  came  a  ride  almost  for  life.  Down  through 
winding  lanes  to  the  farms  below,  out  to  the  pike  itself, 
with  many  a  backward  glance  at  the  low  line  of  heights 
behind  them  and  expectant  ever  of  seeing  gray-jacketted 
horsemen  heading  them  off  in  front,  they  trotted  on 
until  they  came  in  view  of  some  mill  buildings,  a  mile 
before  them — Buckland's,  doubtless,  said  Benton,  after 
a  glance  at  his  map,  and  more  than  likely  there  would 
be  cavalry  there  if  anywhere  east  of  the  Bull  Run  range. 
They  turned  into  a  lane  leading  away  southeastward  be 
tween  desolate  fields;  halted  to  "blow"  their  panting, 
reeking  horses  at  a  little  clump  of  trees  near  a  south- 


THROUGH  THE  MESH  OF  THE  FOE      183 

ward  sweep  of  the  mill  stream — Broad  Run — then  Ben- 
ton  unslung  his  glass  and  took  deliberate  survey  of  the 
distant  mills,  then  of  the  country  over  which  they  had 
come,  and,  spurring  like  mad  down  a  slope  of  the 
heights,  barely  three  miles  back  of  them,  came  a  dozen 
gray  horsemen.  "  They've  seen  us,"  said  he,  as  quietly 
as  he  could,  and  Hector's  trembling  hands  helped  him 
again  to  mount.  Then  away  dashed  the  pair  for  the 
first  ford  of  the  stream,  only  to  see  as  they  rode  out 
dripping  on  the  opposite  bank  that  the  distant  fringe  of 
the  Manassas  woods  looked  far  away  as  ever.  Oh,  for 
a  sight  of  Union  flankers  now ! 

A  long  half  hour  they  rode,  fast  as  jaded  steed  could 
bear  them,  but  Hector's  horse  was  nearly  done.  The 
spare  oak  openings,  the  scattered  copses, now  were  only 
half  a  mile  ahead,  but  southward,  cutting  them  off  from 
Bristoe,  galloped  a  jaunty  half  dozen,  following  the  lead 
of  a  dashing  rider.  Behind  them,  still  beyond  carbine 
range  but  slowly  gaining,  full  twenty  troopers  were 
spreading  out  over  the  open  fields,  "  turning  "  them,  as 
it  were,  from  the  left.  The  soil  was  growing  loose  and 
soft  and  spongy  now  that  they  had  left  the  lanes,  and 
every  now  and  then  they  plunged  through  holes,  deep 
and  treacherous,  but  still  they  lashed  ahead,  Hector's 
poor  brute  groaning — staggering  with  every  stride. 
Presently  the  ground  began  slowly  rising  and  the  woods 
grew  thick.  If  only  they  could  reach  them  !  Surely  the 
Union  pickets  must  be  close  at  hand,  and  now,  as  they 
drove  in  among  the  clumps  of  stunted  trees,  they  lost 


184  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

sight  of  the  troopers  to  the  south.  Now  the  yells  of 
those  in  rear  became  exultant,  and  still  there  came  no 
shot.  Then,  as  they  struggled  through  a  boggy  slough, 
with  sickening  groan  Hector's  exhausted  horse  went 
down  and  floundered  helpless  in  the  mud,  his  wretched 
rider  dragging  himself  from  underneath,  and,  limping 
to  the  foot  of  a  tree,  fell  gasping  and  terrified.  "  Oh, 
Gawd,  don't  leave  me,  Marse  Benton !  "  he  pleaded  in 
agony.  "  Doan'  leave  me  or  dey'll  kill  me,  suah." 
With  one  glance  at  the  cheering  chase,  one  longing  look 
at  the  eastward  slopes,  Benton  sprang  from  saddle,  and 
with  firm-set  lips  and  flashing  eyes,  with  only  one  arm, 
one  weapon, to  oppose  to  these  thronging  and  exultant 
foes,  proud,  protecting  and  defiant,  he  planted  himself 
between  the  yelling  troopers  and  the  prostrate,  helpless, 
humble  friend,  and  like  gentleman  and  soldier  stood  to 
his  ground,  looking  fate  in  the  face. 

Bursting  through  the  trees,  the  foremost  riders  drove 
straight  at  him.  "  Down  with  that  pistol !  "  shouted  a 
voice  in  stern  command.  "  Don't  shoot,  men ;  he's 
wounded !  Drop  your  pistol,  suh.  We're  ten  to  one  !  " 
And  realizing  the  hopelessness  of  fight,  Fred  Benton 
tossed  his  puny  weapon  away. 

But  what  meant  that  sudden  shot  to  the  southward? — 
what  that  sputtering  volley,  that  burst  of  cheers  ?  "  The 
major !  "  "  The  Yanks  !  "  "  Come  on,  come  on !  "  were 
the  shouts.  Away  darted  half  the  mud-spattered  group, 
and  then,  sudden  as  the  shot,  in  spurred  a  breathless 
young  officer.  "  Mount,  suh,  instantly !  Help  him, 


THROUGH  THE  MESH  OF  THE  FOE      185 

corporal.  Up  with  you,  suh !  We  haven't  a  moment." 
Rough,  powerful  hands  fairly  lifted  him  into  saddle. 
Another  hand  seized  the  reins  of  his  horse.  "  Come  on 
now,  lively ! "  was  the  order.  "  Get  him  back  out  o' 
range.  We've  run  slap  into  a  brigade,  general  and  all. 
Off  with  you — to  Buckland,  you  two !  The  rest  of  you 
come  with  me  to  the  major.  What'll  we  do  with  the 
nigguh?  Damn  the  nigguh — we've  no  time  to  bother 
with  him !  " 

Daring  and  devoted,  away  went  the  young  gallants  to 
the  support  of  their  chief,  only  to  meet  the  riderless 
horses  tearing  through  the  glade,  only  to  see  a  dis 
ciplined  skirmish  line  come  dancing  out  into  the  open, 
the  slanting  sunbeams  flashing  on  their  glistening -rifles, 
only  to  see  that  their  major  was  beyond  all  possibility 
of  rescue,  only  to  realize  that  the  ardor  of  the  chase 
had  carried  him  and  them  very  much  too  far,  for,  as 
though  riding  to  the  sound  of  the  shots,  there  came 
galloping  into  line  platoon  after  platoon  of  a  blue- 
jacketted  squadron,  the  first  of  a  column  issuing  from 
the  southward  woods,  and  now  the  tables  turned  in 
desperate  earnest,  for,  with  blown  and  exhausted 
mounts,  what  hope  had  they  of  escape?  "Charge  as 
foragers,"  rang  the  distant  trumpets,  as  the  leader's 
eyes  swept  over  the  scene  and  saw  the  pitiful  few  in  his 
front,  and,  with  a  wild  burst  of  cheers,  and  sabres  flash 
ing  on  high,  the  long  line  sprang  forward,  fan-like;  then, 
every  man  for  himself,  came  tearing  northward  across 
the  field. 


136  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

An  hour  later,  defiant  and  superbly  disdainful  of  his 
surroundings,  Major  Lounsberry  was  being  interro 
gated  by  Captain  Carver  of  the  division  staff,  while 
three  or  four  other  officers  in  blue  hovered  about  the 
little  frame  farmhouse  to  which  the  prisoner  had  been 
conducted. 

"  You  may  spare  yourself  the  trouble  of  questioning 
me,  suh,"  said  he  with  appropriate  hauteur.  "  I  decline 
to  answer.  Wait  till  you  see  Dr.  Chilton,"  he  added, 
with  sneering  triumph,  "  if  he  isn't  already  hanged  for 
a  traitor.  You've  seen  the  last  of  your  friend  Benton, 
I  reckon.  Perhaps  he  could  have  told  you." 

"  I  reckon  he  could,"  said  Carver  imperturbably,  as 
he  glanced  toward  the  door  at  Lounsberry's  back. 
"  How  is  it,  Benton,  is  Ewell  at  Gordonsville  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XV 
LINCOLN'S  DILEMMA 

"  The  President  desires  to  see  Lieutenant  Benton  of 
your  staff,"  wrote  the  adjutant  general,  three  weeks 
later,  to  the  division  commander  and,  just  at  a  time 
when  he  hated  to  go,  for  there  seemed  a  prospect  of  a 
forward  dash  on  Gordonsville,  the  aide-de-camp  found 
himself  en  route  from  the  Stafford  heights  opposite 
Fredericksburg  to  the  steamer  landing  on  the  Potomac. 
The  big  division  had  made  a  sudden  swoop  from  Cat- 
lett's  on  the  Orange  railway  down  to  the  lower  Rappa- 
hannock.  A  Confederate  cavalry  picket  had  been  cut  off 
and  captured.  Another  young  gallant,  painfully 
wounded,  had  been  brought  in,  and  now,  in  charge  of 
Benton,  was  being  escorted  to  Washington.  He  had 
refused  parole.  He  would  rather  share  the  fate  of 
Lounsberry,  said  he,  if  his  wounds  speedily  healed,  or 
of  poor  Floyd  Pelham,  still  languishing  in  hospital,  if 
the  wounds  proved  baffling.  He  knew  both  gentlemen, 
it  seems,  and  had  served  with  one  of  the  detachments 
in  pursuit  of  Benton.  It  was  strange,  indeed,  to  find 
himself  now  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  recently  pur 
sued,  and,  with  no  little  curiosity  in  his  eyes,  had  he 
watched  the  stalwart  aide  who  had  come  each  day  to 


188  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

the  field  hospital  at  Falmouth  to  talk  with  and  cheer 
him.  Distant  and  offish  in  manner  at  first,  as  he  and 
his  comrades  had  considered  it  their  role  to  appear,  this 
young  soldier  had  melted  under  the  kindness  shown  him 
by  the  enemy.  "  We  heard  stories  that  led  us  to  expect 
the  opposite,"  said  he,  and  so,  before  the  doctor  de 
clared  him  well  enough  to  be  sent  further  to  the  rear, 
had  told  of  things  of  vivid  interest  to  him  who  so  lately 
had  himself  been  prisoner  within  the  hostile  lines.  How 
much  those  fellows  seemed  to  know  of  everything  tran 
spiring  within  the  Union  divisions  !  Just  what  had  been 
done  with  Lounsberry  and  Pelham — just  where  they 
were  confined  and  everything  connected  with  their  cap 
ture  was  all  told  at  Charlottesville  almost  as  soon  as  at 
Washington.  How  little,  until  long  weeks  after,  as  a 
rule,  did  our  generals  know  of  the  daily  doings  beyond 
the  picket  posts  along  the  front !  With  sorrow  and  anx 
iety  inexpressible  Benton  heard  that  in  spite  of  Dr. 
Chilton's  long  years  of  kindness  and  generosity  among 
his  townsfolk — in  spite  of  Rosalie's  acknowledged 
queendom,  an  almost  bitter  feeling  now  existed,  and 
there  was  talk  of  arrest  and  incarceration  at  Richmond. 
Not  until  he  had  studied  Benton  for  several  days  did 
young  Winston  admit  all  this — and  more.  He  had 
heard  it  through  officers  at  Robertson's  headquarters. 
He  had  known  the  Chiltons  well  when  he  was  a  junior 
at  the  Varsity.  He  had  often  seen  Lounsberry  and 
had  heard  much  of  his  standing  and  influence — had 
heard,  moreover,  that  he  had  been  a  devotee  of  Miss 


LINCOLN'S   DILEMMA  189 

Rosalie's.  "  However,"  with  a  quick  glance  at  Ben- 
ton's  face,  which  colored  instantly,  even  under  its  coat 
of  tan  and  sunburn,  "  Lounsberry  didn't  seem  to  find 
favor."  There  was  some  trouble,  he  didn't  know  what, 
and  Maud  Pelham  had  "  had  a  flare  up  "  with  Rosalie, 
and  that  was  something  people  didn't  understand,  for 
Jack  Chilton  was  as  much  smitten  with  her  as  Louns 
berry  had  been  with  Miss  Chilton.  "  Don't  s'pose  you 
heard  much  about  it,"  said  he  in  the  confidence  bred 
of  the  unlooked-for  kindness  with  which  he  had  been 
treated,  but  adding,  with  an  apologetic  laugh,  "  they  do 
say  at  Charlottesville  that  Miss  Rosalie  just  ruled  every 
body  about  her  like  she  was  a  bohn  queen."  And  then 
did  Mr.  Winston  admit  that  possibly  something  of  the 
bitterness  now  displayed  was  due  to  this  fact,  and  to 
the  envy  or  malice  of  those  who  had  felt  her  imper 
ious  sway  in  the  past.  At  all  events,  and  here  was 
what  so  troubled  Benton,  it  was  held  that  the  doctor, 
or  at  least  Miss  Rosalie,  had  taken  active  part  in  Ben- 
ton's  escape  and  had  thereby  been  false  to  the  cause 
of  Virginia  and  the  South.  The  doctor  contented  him 
self  with  saying  the  escape  was  all  a  surprise  to  him, 
though  he  would  not  say  that  he  deplored  it.  He  frankly 
owned  his  obligation  to  his  former  captive  and  his  re 
joicing  that  the  young  fellow  was  spared  the  fate  of  a 
prisoner  at  Libby.  As  for  Miss  Rosalie,  "  she  was  too 
proud  to  say  a  word,"  said  Winston.  It  was  Jack  who 
really  suffered  most,  for  he  had  incurred  the  suspicion 
of  war-office  magnates,  who  had  sent  surgeons  to  ex- 


190  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

amine  and  say  whether,  if  exchanged,  he  would  be  fit 
to  restime  duty — a  proceeding  that  set  him  back  six 
weeks  on  the  road  to  recovery,  so  ugly  was  the  fever 
into  which  he  fretted  himself.  Indeed,  Jack  was  criti 
cally  ill,  said  Winston,  when  last  he  heard  of  him.  Then 
Lounsberry's  people  wouldn't  speak  to  Dr.  Chilton. 
Squire  Pelham  had  publicly  denounced  him  as  the  cause 
of  the  desperate  plight  of  his  own  brave  boy.  Old  Black 
Dan  had  been  arrested  by  soldiers  sent  by  Ewell,  and 
taken  to  Gordonsville,  and  as  for  Pomp,  he  had  totally 
disappeared.  All  this  had  Lieutenant  Winston  heard 
just  before  he  rode  forth  on  his  latest  scout  and  had 
been  pounced  upon,  while  his  horses  were  unsaddled 
and  feeding,  by  a  troop  of  the  "  Harris  Light  " — Kilpat- 
rick's  boasted  command — and  so  swept  in  to  the  divis 
ion  camp  opposite  quaint  old  Fredericksburg. 

Therefore  was  Benton  at  this  moment  most  unwilling 
to  leave  the  front,  for  there  were  indications  of  brisk 
work  and  a  forward  movement  that  might  relieve  the 
situation.  Letters  from  home  had  showered  him  with 
blessings  and  congratulations  on  his  escape.  The  squire 
was  now  full  of  a  scheme  to  come  on  to  Washington, 
bringing  Elinor  with  him,  but,  much  as  she  longed  to 
see  her  brother,  the  girl  was  now  loth  to  leave  home — 
Mrs.  Ladue  was  swiftly  failing  and  seemed  to  need  her 
gentle  nurse  more  and  more  with  every  day.  Mr.  La- 
due,  more  and  more  apathetic  and  resigned,  seemed  to 
do  nothing  but  sit  long  hours  in  an  easy  rocking-chair, 
watching  the  gambols  of  the  children's  kittens  and  tak- 


LINCOLN'S  DILEMMA  191 

ing  little  heed  of  other  mundane  matters.  McKinnon, 
wrote  certain  townsfolk  to  Fred's  general,  had  so  lost 
caste  in  the  community  that  he  had  determined  on  a 
war  record  to  rehabilitate  himself,  and  was  now  seeking 
the  lieutenant-colonelcy  of  a  new  regiment  being  raised 
in  their  midst.  The  general  urged  at  once,  and  instead, 
that  the  field  officers  of  such  new  regiments  should  be 
chosen  from  those  officers  who,  with  a  year's  experience 
at  the  front,  had  demonstrated  their  fitness  for  com 
mand.  "  There  are  candidates  right  here  in  the  brigade," 
said  he,  but  what  influence  have  soldiers  at  the  front  as 
compared  with  that  of  State  senators  at  the  rear? 

When  the  President  said  he  wished  to  see  an  officer, 
however,  it  meant  that  the  officer  indicated  must  stand 
not  upon  the  order  of  his  going,  and  Fred  in  saddle,  with 
young  Winston  in  the  ambulance  and  Hector  in  a  broad 
grin  on  the  steps  thereof,  set  out  from  Falmouth  on  a 
mild  May  morning  just  about  the  time  that  Jackson 
was  beginning  those  wondrous  cross-country  dashes  of 
his  in  the  Shenandoah,  scattering  our  already  scattered 
divisions  in  astonishing  style.  What  with  bad  news 
from  Schenck  and  Milroy,  falling  back  on  Fremont 
after  a  thrashing  at  the  Bull  Pasture,  a  deep  disappoint 
ment  over  McClellan's  being  held  an  entire  month  in 
front  of  Yorktown  and  a  feeling  that  we  were  getting 
rather  the  worst  of  the  grapple  on  the  Peninsula,  the 
atmosphere  about  the  War  Department  was  gloomy 
enough  the  day  the  young  officer  arrived.  He  had  had 
no  time  to  replace,  as  yet,  the  handsome  equipments 


192  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

sacrificed  in  his  escape.  (What  had  Queen  Rosalie  done, 
for  instance,  with  that  beautiful  soft  silken  sash  that  he 
left  in  his  room?)  He  had  hoped  to  do  so  before  re 
porting,  but  at  the  hospital  where  he  left  his  prisoner, 
with  a  lingering  hand  clasp  and  promise  of  a  later  call, 
there  awaited  him  a  note  saying  the  adjutant-general, 
despite  the  early  hour,  desired  his  presence  without  de 
lay.  There  in  the  ante-room,  with  officers,  orderlies  and 
mesengers  grouped  about  or  coming  and  going,  sat  the 
long,  lanky  and  phenomenally  solemn  Virginian  he  had 
first  seen  that  night  at  the  stone  house  on  the  Warren- 
ton  pike.  Jennings  knew  the  newcomer  at  a  glance 
and,  springing  up,  shook  him  effusively  by  the  hand. 
A  moment  later  an  officer  appeared  at  another  door  and 
beckoned  Benton  to  enter.  "  What  do  you  know  about 
that  man  ?  "  was  the  very  first  question  propounded  the 
instant  the  door  closed  behind  him. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Benton,  "  except  that  he  was  at  the 
stone  house,  in  trouble  with  some  of  our  brigade  the 
first  time  I  saw  him — seemed  to  be  well  known  to  Dr. 
Chilton  and  other  Virginians,  and  later  he  was  with  the 
Sixth  Wisconsin  the  afternoon  they  captured  Major 
Lounsberry." 

"  But — how  about  papers — information — concerning 
our  forces  that  he  received  that  night?  You  were  cap 
tured  while  grappling  with  the  cavalry  officer  who 
brought  them." 

"  I  ?  "  cried  Benton.  "  Good  heavens  !  "  And  then 
stood  dumb,  for  all  on  a  sudden  it  flashed  over  him. 


LINCOLN'S   DILEMMA  193 

Rosalie !  Rosalie,  who  had  so  inexplicably  donned  La- 
due's  uniform,  ventured  down  through  the  darkness  to 
the  pike,  seeking  some  one  at  the  stone  house.  Rosalie, 
who  had  refused  to  tell  what  influence  prompted  that 
apparently  reckless  escapade!  Papers?  Information 
concerning  our  movements?  Why,  what  sense  was 
there  in  her  taking  all  that  risk  when  at  that  very  mo 
ment  our  pickets  were  falling  back  before  Stuart's  tri 
umphant  advance — when  all  but  a  few  of  the  guard 
had  already  disappeared  from  the  Henry  place — when 
by  midnight  or  at  the  latest  at  dawn  she  was  almost 
sure  to  be  again  in  touch  with  her  own  friends  and 
kindred?  Aye,  but  did  she  know  that?  Might  it  not 
be  that  there  had  been  papers — maps — memoranda  in 
the  pockets  of  Ladue's  uniform  that  she  deemed  of  vital 
importance  to  the  cause  she  loved,  and  so  had  sought 
what  she  deemed  the  surest,  quickest  way  to  get  them 
to  him?  Ladue  was  to  go,  if  possible,  to  Hopewell  and 
the  Armisteads.  Jennings,  if  at  the  stone  house,  could 
take  the  packet  thither.  At  all  events  it  would  then  be 
in  safe  hands  if  it  proved,  indeed,  of  value — safe  beyond 
possibility  of  being  taken  by  the  Union  soldiers  and  used 
to  the  injury  of  her  wounded  brother.  Perhaps  that 
was  why  she  had  fought  so  furiously  when  he  grappled 
with  that  supple,  slender  form.  Perhaps  after  his  cap 
ture  she  had  given  it  to  Jennings.  All  this  and  more 
flashed  through  his  mind  as  he  stood  there  in  the  dark 
little  office,  with  his  interrogator  impatiently  facing  him, 
and  two  other  officials  looking  up  at  him  from  a  paper- 


194  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

littered  table,  much  impressed,  evidently,  by  the  sig 
nificance  of  his  silence  and  embarrassment. 

"  Yes,"  sharply  repeated  the  first  speaker,  "  papers 
and,  doubtless,  valuable  information.  You  saw  them 
pass  to  Jennings,  as  he  calls  himself,  did  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  saw  nothing  of  the  kind !  "  answered  Benton,  inex 
pressibly  relieved  that  as  yet,  at  least,  he  had  had  no 
occasion  to  speak  of  her — to  reveal  the  fact  that  the 
daring  young  Southerner  with  whom  he  had  grappled 
was  no  officer  at  all,  yet  what  a  soldier !  What  a  leader 
of  men !  What  a  conqueror  and  commander !  "  In 
deed,"  he  went  on  eagerly,  "  I  was  too  busy  trying  to 
get  out  of  the  scrape  to  think  of  Jennings  at  all.  I 
made  a  jump  for  my  horse  and  was  in  a  hand-to-hand 
fight  in  two  seconds.  I  never  knew  what  became  of 
Jennings." 

"  You  remember  Sergeant  Miller,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  remember  a  sergeant — an  Indiana  sergeant,  and 
a  very  keen  one  who  was  there,  but  I  feared  he  and  his 
party  were  killed  or  captured." 

"  Some  of  them  were,"  said  the  examining  officer 
grimly,  "  but  Miller  dove  into  the  bushes,  made  his  way 
through  the  darkness  and  escaped.  He  declares  he  saw 
the  young  rebel  officer  toss  the  packet  to  Jennings  and 
heard  him  cry,  '  For  General  Armistead — to-night — 
sure ! '  And  now  here  is  Jennings  begging  to  be  al 
lowed  to  see  two  prisoners — Major  Lounsberry  and  the 
young  Virginian,  Pelham,  who  was  wounded  protecting 
him  the  day  you  were  rescued.  He  brings  a  note  from 


LINCOLN'S   DILEMMA  195 

the  President.  Look  here ! "  and  taking  a  scrap  of 
paper  from  his  desk  the  staff  officer  held  it  forth  for 
Benton's  inspection.  It  was  brief  and  to  the  point : 

"  The  bearer,  Mr.  Jennings,  has  been  of  service  and  asks  to  see  two 
friends — prisoners — Major  Lounsberry  and  Trooper  Pelham.  I  shall  be 
glad  if  opportunity  can  be  given  him. 

(Signed)  "A.  LINCOLN." 

Benton  read  and  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  I,  too 
should  like  to  see  them — Lounsberry,  at  least,"  said  he, 
with  eyes  that  kindled  and  lips  that  set,  "  but  not  as  a 
prisoner.  I  have  a  score  to  settle  with  that  gentleman. 
When  does  Mr.  Jennings  go?" 

"  Can't  say.  The  Secretary  said  no  emphatically — 
not  until  matters  were  explained.  It  was  thought  you 
might  settle  it  one  way  or  another  before  we  questioned 
him."  And  the  officer  was  manifestly  disappointed,  and 
still  he  persisted.  "You  heard  nothing  about  him? 
— Dr.  Chilton  never  spoke  of  him  while  you  were  at 
Charlottesville  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  recall  his  ever  doing  so — except  casually. 
But  Judge  Armistead,  not  the  general,  was  there  at 
Gainesville.  My  belief  is  that  General  Armistead  was 
not  near  Manassas  when  I  was  taken.  Miller  must  have 
misunderstood." 

Yet  how  could  Miller  misunderstand  those  clear, 
vibrant  tones  ?  The  very  thought  of  them  thrilled  Ben- 
ton  to  the  heart.  And  how  could  he  now,  her  lover, 
her  infinite  debtor,  drag  her  name  into  the  investigation 
so  long  as  there  was  no  need?  As  yet  no  one  at  the 


196  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

War  Department  seemed  to  know  of  Rosalie  Chilton's 
share  in  that  stirring  night's  adventure.  What  good 
end  would  be  attained  by  the  telling  of  it? 

"  Well,"  said  the  officer,  finally,  "  I'm  sorry  we  had  to 
trouble  you,  but  the  Secretary  thought  you  would  know 
more  of  this  suspected  stranger.  General  McDowell 
trusted  him,  we  fear,  too  much,  and  as  you  are  to  see 
the  President  we  thought  you  might  open  his  eyes  if 
the  fellow  were  playing  a  double  game.  I  dare  say  you 
know  people  sometimes  impose  on  the  President,"  and 
here  the  captain  smiled,  whimsically,  "  and  that's  why 
when  he  could  issue  these  things  as  an  order,  he  won't. 
He  thinks  it  wiser  to  let  the  Secretary  handle  matters 
of  the  kind.  Now,  your  general,  Mr.  Benton,  is  being 
accused  of  having  Southern  leanings  because  he  has 
been  protecting  Southern  property  there  about  Fred- 
ericksburg." 

"  Some  defenceless  women,  left  all  alone,  asked  for 
guards  and  got  them,"  answered  Benton,  stoutly.  "  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  their  lords  and  masters  are  secesh, 
but  we're  not  warring  on  women,  I  take  it." 

"  As  yet — no,"  was  the  thoughtful  reply,  "  and  may 
God  forbid  our  having  to  come  to  it.  But,  my  young 
friend,  if  you  knew  half  that  we  know, — and  we  don't 
begin  to  know  half  that  those  brainy,  daring,  scheming, 
smiling  Southern  women  are  doing  all  around  us, — you 
might  think  the  time  close  at  hand  when  they,  too, 
would  have  to  be  made  amenable  to  the  laws  of  war.  It 
isn't  a  week  since  one  of  them  ran  off  with  one  of  our 


LINCOLN'S   DILEMMA  197 

prisoners  here,  and  you  know  what  a  trick  was  played 
by — Dr.  Chilton's  daughter." 

And  now  indeed  did  Benton's  face  begin  to  burn,  a 
thing  the  captain  and  the  silent  listeners  were  quick  to 
note. 

"  You  have  your  receipt  for  your  prisoner,  I  presume. 
Then  I'll  not  detain  you  further,  only — come  this  way. 
We've  got  to  question  your  friend  Jennings  next,"  and 
so  saying  the  captain  led  his  visitor  through  a  second 
room  where  at  crowded  desks  a  score  of  clerks  were 
writing.  "  When  do  you  go  to  the  White  House  ?  "  he 
suddenly  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  expected  to  learn  here.  But  I 
hoped  to  have  time  to  get  freshened  up  a  bit,  and  I 
need  new " 

"  Nonsense !  You  look  as  though  you'd  just  stepped 
out  of  a  bandbox  in  that  uniform.  Ask  Mr.  Stone  to 
come  here,"  he  added,  to  a  statuesque  soldier  at  the 
door. 

"  The  uniform  may  be  all  right,  but  what  I  need  is 
sash  and  side  arms,"  said  Benton,  still  weighted  with 
the  traditions  of  his  "  regular  "  regiment. 

"  Never  mind  them !  The  President  never  notices 
what  a  man  wears  or  knows  what  he  himself  has  on.  I 
suppose  he  wants  to  hear  what  you  saw  and  heard — and 
something  about  the  Chiltons,  for  they  seem  to  be  in  hot 
water.  Ah,  Mr.  Stone,  what  time  was  Mr.  Benton  to 
report  to  the  White  House  ?  " 

"  I  was  to  bring  him  over  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  sir. 


198  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

Is  this  the  gentleman  ?  "  And  a  young  man  in  civilian 
garb  bowed  courteously.  Then,  with  a  promise  to  re 
turn,  as  there  were  matters  on  which  General  Thomas 
wished  to  question  him,  Benton  hurried  away. 

It  was  not  yet  nine  o'clock,  but  already  half  a  dozen 
carriages  were  halted  along  the  semi-circular  drive  in 
front  of  the  mansion,  and  a  number  of  pallid,  anxious 
women  and  grave-visaged  men  were  gathered  about  the 
beautiful,  colonnaded  portico.  Through  the  waiting 
group  the  messenger  swiftly  led  his  charge ;  through  the 
massive  doorway  and  up  the  stairs  to  the  left,  past  offi 
cers  chatting  in  low  tones  along  the  broad  corridor,  past 
the  desks  of  badgered  secretaries,  striving  to  answer  the 
questions  of  a  dozen  importunates  at  once.  Many 
glanced  up  curiously,  at  the  tall  young  soldier,  striding 
in  the  wake  of  his  well-known  guide,  and  many  a  man 
questioned,  "  Who  is  that?  "  as,  with  a  whispered  word 
to  a  door-keeper,  the  two  disappeared  beyond  green 
baize  portals  that  swung  quickly  shut — through  another 
large,  airy  room  from  whose  windows  one  saw  a  lovely 
vista  of  the  placid  river  and  wooded  Virginia  shores, 
and  even  here  some  half  a  dozen  elders,  gray-haired, 
important-looking  men — privileged  characters,  evidently 
— were  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  great  head  of  an  anx 
ious  and  distracted  people.  Through  still  another  door 
way  they  passed  and  into  a  smaller  room,  where  stood 
a  long  table  in  the  middle  and  smaller  desks  at  the  sides, 
whereat  two  silent  secretaries  were  writing.  One  of 
these  looked  up,  nodded  and  pointed  with  the  tip  of  his 


LINCOLN'S  DILEMMA  199 

pen  to  a  door  across  the  little  room.  Mr.  Stone  led 
Benton  to  a  long  window  facing  the  river  and  the 
heights  of  Arlington  beyond,  left  him  there  and  dis 
appeared.  A  moment  or  two  later  that  door  opened, 
and  the  two  secretaries  did  not  even  rise  or  discontinue 
their  work.  A  tall,  bony,  black-robed,  black-haired  and 
bearded  man,  with  deep-set,  black-browed  eyes  and 
brown,  sunken  cheeks  came  striding  in,  one  great  hand 
grasping  a  batch  of  papers,  the  other  being  grasped  by 
both  the  sturdy  paws  of  a  merry-eyed,  ruddy-cheeked 
urchin  who,  lifting  his  booted  feet  clear  of  the  carpet, 
was  being  swung  through  space  like  some  animated 
hopper  at  the  end  of  the  traversing  jib  of  tall,  traveling 
crane.  Benton  knew  them  at  a  glance — the  chief  magis 
trate  of  a  mighty  nation  and  the  darling  of  the  father's 
great,  fond,  over-burdened  heart — little  Tad. 

Down  went  the  batch  of  papers  on  the  table;  out 
stretched  the  freed  hand  to  greet  the  young  soldier  at 
the  window;  a  winsome,  welcoming  smile  shone  like 
sunbeam  through  wintry  cloud,  illumining  the  kind, 
homely  face.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  Lieutenant,"  said  he, 
with  cordial  hand-clasp,  as  the  little  scamp,  still  swing 
ing  at  his  side,  now  encircled  the  black-garbed  lower 
limbs  with  his  own  sturdy  legs.  "  Tad,  my  boy,  this  is 
Lieutenant  Benton — just  back  from  Dixie.  Now,  he's 
got  a  darky  worth  having  in  your  show.  Take  a  chair, 
Lieutenant,"  and  the  lean,  sinewy  arm,  long  accustomed 
to  the  sweep  of  a  Mississippi  trading  scow,  or  the  long- 
handled  axe  of  the  rail-splitter,  whirled  the  nearest  chair 


200  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

round  toward  the  window.  Then,  switching  his  tangling 
coat  tails  out  of  the  way  with  that  same  brawny  hand 
and,  never  striving  to  pull  loose  from  the  determined 
grasp  of  the  youngster  now  straddling  his  knee,  the 
President  unhinged  somewhere  about  the  middle  and 
dropped  on  the  edge  of  the  table.  "  You  see,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  in  these  busy  times  I  have  to  do  several  things 
at  once.  McClellan  wants  forty  thousand  more  men 
for  a  side-show  and  Tad  four  boys  for  a  nigger  minstrel 
performance " 

"  You  promised !  "  burst  in  Tad,  emphasizing  his  de 
mand  with  strenuous  thumps  at  the  parental  ribs. 

"  That's  what  McClellan  says,"  whimsically  responded 
the  President,  "  and,  Mr.  Benton,  it  begins  to  look  as 
though  we  couldn't  get  down  to  business  until  both  are 
supplied.  We  have  a  session  in  the  cabinet  room  on 
the  first  issue  in  five  minutes  and  have  been  at  odds  on 
the  second  since  before  I  was  out  of  bed.  In  both 
cases  there  are  objections  on  part  of  the — the  house 
keeper,  but,  Mr.  Stone,  will  you  go  with  this  young 
showman  and  arrange  the  matter  with  his  mother?  I 
surrender !  " 

Whereupon  did  Tad,  in  a  rapture,  tear  away  to  tell 
of  the  victory,  and  the  President,  laying  that  long,  lean 
hand  on  Benton's  knee,  bent  earnestly  toward  him.  "  I 
need  to  know  all  you  can  tell  me  about  Dr.  Chilton  and 
his  family,"  said  he.  "  Some  of  our  vehement,  war-to- 
the-hilt  people  are  practically  demanding  the  arrest  of 
a  'Southern  family  here  to  be  dealt  with  in  precisely  the 


LINCOLN'S  DILEMMA 


same  way  certain  Virginians  propose  to  deal  with  the 
doctor  and  that  spirited  daughter  of  his.  No  harm  as 
yet,"  for  here  the  young  soldier's  face  had  blanched  and 
his  eyes  filled  with  dread  and  anguish.  "  No  harm,  that 
is  -  Have  we  further  news  this  morning?  "  he  turned 
and  asked  the  busy  secretary  at  the  nearest  desk,  tilting 
the  while  one  long  leg  over  the  other  and  clasping  the 
bony  knee  with  both  hands.  "  Your  general  gave  us 
the  particulars  of  your  escape  so  far  as  you  had  told 
him,  and  it  is  noted  that  you  in  no  way  reveal  the  names 
of  those  who  aided  you,  but  now  -  What  is  it,  Mr. 
Nicolay?"  for  with  solemn  face,  the  confidential  secre 
tary,  holding  an  open  letter  in  his  hand,  now  stood  at 
the  President's  elbow.  Mr.  Lincoln  took  the  paper, 
knitted  his  brows  and  began  to  read. 

"  It  came  from  the  secret  service,  Mr.  President,  not 
ten  minutes  ago,"  said  the  secretary.  "  Colonel  Baker, 
I  believe,  is  in  the  ante-room." 

Benton  felt  himself  gripping  the  arms  of  his  chair, 
for  the  room  seemed  swimming  as  the  President  looked 
quickly  up.  "  Not  so  bad,"  said  he,  "  if  we  can  only 
take  care  of  them  here.  They  have  simply  banished 
them  —  father  and  daughter,  both." 


CHAPTER    XVI 

"  STONEWALL  "    IN   AMBUSH 

From  Arlington  to  Bull  Run,  from  Bull  Run  to  Alex 
andria,  from  Alexandria  to  Catlett's,  from  Catlett's  to 
Falmouth,  from  Falmouth  to  Guiney's,  from  Guiney's 
to  Belle  Plaine,  from  Belle  Plaine  to  Front  Royal — one 
hundred  miles  up  and  one  hundred  miles  down,  from 
Stafford  to  Culpeper,  then  back  to  the  Hedgman,  with 
Jackson  and  Longstreet  prodding  the  march,  through 
.dust  and  heat,  through  mud  and  rain,  through  storm  and 
sunshine,  through  ford  and  field,  through  May  and  June, 
July  and  August,  hither  and  yon,  to  and  fro,  no  wonder 
they  called  it  the  "  Pendulum  Division  "  by  the  time 
that  arch-optimist  of  the  war  days,  the  new  commander 
of  the  newly  named  Army  of  Virginina,  John  Pope,  of 
blessed  memory,  recoiled  from  his  victory  at  Cedar 
Mountain,  drawing  the  shattered  foe  after  him  "  on  to 
Manassas  "  (from  the  other  side)  and  a  meeting  with 
those  other  victorious  corps  reshipped  from  the  Penin 
sula  to  the  succor  of  Washington.  Resting  from  his  ill- 
starred  Chickahominy  campaign,  McClellan  watched 
with  presumably  sympathetic  eyes  the  stirring  exploits 
of  his  rival,  who,  halting  a  bit  for  breath  at  the  Hedg 
man  and  greeting  with  scant  courtesy  the  first  aid  to 


STONEWALL   IN   AMBUSH  203 

reach  him  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  sent  our 
friends  of  the  Pendulum — four  brigades  now — up  stream 
to  watch  Jackson  at  Sulphur  Springs  when  that  agile 
leader  was  already  crossing  still  farther  west,  and, 
with  Benton's  old  friends,  the  Bull  Run  Mountains,  for 
a  screen,  was  sprinting  round  our  right  flank,  only  to 
come  bursting  through  the  very  gap  the  swarthy  little 
colonel  of  the  "  Black  Hats  "  and  the  tall  adjutant  of  the 
comrade  Sixth  had  studied  with  their  glasses  that  April 
afternoon,  little  dreaming  it  was  to  afford  the  grand 
entree  of  the  rebel  host  in  August. 

The  next  heard  of  "  Old  Jack  "  he  was  at  Manassas 
Junction — square  between  the  headquarters  in  the  sad 
dle  and  those  on  the  steamboat — between  Pope  at  War- 
renton  and  Mac  at  Alexandria — between  the  victorious 
retreat  of  the  Army  of  Virginia  and  the  half-hearted, 
half-halting  advance  of  that  of  the  Potomac,  twenty- 
five  thousand  with  him,  probably  two  hundred  thousand 
encompassing  him  round  about,  and  there,  despite  his 
perilous  position  did  he  linger  long  enough  to  refit,  re- 
clothe,  re-shoe  large  share  of  his  ragged,  whole-souled, 
half-soled  followers  and  to  feast  them  all  at  Uncle  Sam's 
expense.  Then,  burning  the  thousands  of  barrels  and 
bales  that  he  couldn't  use,  retired  by  night  toward 
Washington  while  Pope,  facing  about,  advanced — ad 
vanced  behind,  as  before — to  "  bag  the  whole  crowd," 
to  sprinkle  salt  on  the  tail  of  a  swift,  to  batter  a  flea  with 
a  flail. 

A  hot,  yet  sweet  and  placid  August  afternoon  spent 


204  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

Jackson  and  most  of  his  wiry  men  (did  ever  one  suspect 
our  languid  Southern  brethren  of  such  phenomenal 
powers  of  self-propulsion  ?)  snoozing  in  the  leafy  woods 
behind  the  screen  of  that  unfinished  railway  embank 
ment,  their  left  at  Sudley  Springs,  their  right  reaching 
to  a  point  a  little  northwest  of  Groveton,  yet  curving 
gently  back,  well  clear  of  the  pike  and  thinning  out  into 
mere  scattered  squads  of  Stuart's  troopers,  keeping 
touch,  as  it  were,  with  Longstreet's  coming  host  just 
bristling  through  the  gaps  of  Thoroughfare  and  Hope- 
well  beyond,  making  John  Buford,  with  his  handful  of 
horse,  show  his  teeth  at  the  lower  gap,  while  Ricketts, 
sore  wounded  the  previous  year  on  Henry  house  hill 
and  a  prisoner  perforce  long  months  at  Libby,  deploy 
his  brigades  'cross  country  to  compel  Longstreet  to  do 
likewise,  and  so  delay  his  march  until  the  rest  of  the 
army  should  encircle  Manassas  from  south,  southwest, 
west,  northwest  and  north,  make  but  a  mouthful  of  Jack 
and  his  saucy  divisions — his  famous  Foot  Cavalry — and 
so,  sleep  with  satisfied  stomachs  on  the  choicest  game 
of  the  season. 

But,  as  had  said  that  far-sighted  adjutant  that  April 
afternoon  when,  not  a  mile  from  the  now  ruined,  smok 
ing,  devastated  supply  depot  at  the  Junction,  "  first  catch 
your  hare."  The  plan  was  a  gem,  the  bag  was  a  big 
one,  the  feast  was  a  joy  if  only  the  hare  had  consented 
to  stay.  When  Pope  reached  the  spot  of  his  prospec 
tive  banquet  the  quarry  had  vanished,  no  man  could  say 
where. 


STONEWALL  IN  AMBUSH  205 

In  bivouac  the  night  before  beyond  Buckland  Mills, 
Benton  had  again  told  to  his  general  and  some  of  the 
staff  the  story  of  his  ride  across  the  Bull  Run  Moun 
tains,  and  the  dash  for  life  and  liberty  to  the  distant 
woods  about  Manassas.  Hector,  too,  had  his  circle  of 
eager  listeners,  but  all  men  were  too  wearied  from  in 
cessant  marching  to  care  to  go  exploring  beyond  that 
western  range,  even  had  daylight  lasted.  True  to  the 
traditions  of  the  War  Department,  no  cavalry  could  be 
had  to  scout  for  the  corps  commander.  John  Buford, 
with  a  puny  brigade,  had  felt  his  way  through  Thor 
oughfare  the  evening  previous,  but  there  was  no  one 
to  reach  out  westward  on  McDowell's  left  and  learn 
the  actual  truth  that  Longstreet's  whole  corps  was 
trudging  swiftly  northward,  turning  east  at  Salem  on 
the  trail  of  Jackson  and  making,  doubtless,  for  that 
famous  Gap.  The  division  commander,  worn  with  days 
and  nights  of  sleepless  vigil  and  still  suffering  from  ill 
ness,  had  gone  early  to  his  blankets  on  the  bare  ground, 
while  Benton  and  Carver,  sitting  by  their  little  fire, 
puffed  at  their  pipes  and  chatted  of  the  strange  vicis 
situdes  of  fortune  that  had  befallen  those  with  whom 
the  young  soldier's  life  had  been  so  closely  linked.  The 
Ladues — what  sorrowful  fate  had  not  been  theirs? — the 
mother,  sleeping  peacefully  at  last  beneath  the  shades 
of  Forest  Home ;  the  father  living  a  second  childhood, 
bereft  of  all  its  buoyancy ;  the  children  the  care  of  kindly 
neighbors ;  Paul  serving  somewhere,  if  still  alive,  with 
Ewell's  division,  perhaps  at  that  moment  visiting  the 


206  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

outposts  over  yonder  in  those  dark  woods  beyond  which 
the  dull  glow  in  the  skies  told  of  the  havoc  wrought 
by  Jackson's  men.  Would  they  meet  him  on  the  mor 
row?  was  the  thought  in  Benton's  breast. 

Then  there  were  the  Chilton's,  his  other  Southern 
friends — the  gentle-natured  sire,  the  gallant  son  and  that 
daring,  wilful,  imperious  girl — what  had  been  their  for 
tune  ?  Ostracised  at  home  by  some,  at  least,  of  those 
he  had  longest  loved,  the  doctor  had  accepted  almost 
as  a  release  the  mandate  of  a  citizens'  committee  bid 
ding  him  and  his  to  leave  Charlottesville  forthwith. 
Richmond  was  in  a  turmoil  at  the  time,  but  the  doctor 
would  go  there,  hoping  to  redress  his  wrongs,  and  wear 
ing  himself  out,  body  and  soul,  with  nervous  anxiety 
and  sense  of  utter  injustice.  Not  for  a  day  would  Ro 
salie  leave  him,  though  Jack  was  now  a  stricken  lad 
indeed,  in  rough  field  hospital  at  Gordonsville. 

McClellan's  guns  were  thundering  almost  at  the  gates 
of  the  Confederate  capital  when  sorrowing,  sympathetic 
kinsfolk  took  the  Chiltons  to  their  hearth  and  home  and 
strove  to  soothe  the  wrathful  old  man.  The  city  filled 
up  fast  with  wounded.  Every  house  was  a  hospital, 
and  then,  when  by  his  devotion  and  professional  skill, 
the  good  doctor  might  soon  have  rehabilitated  himself, 
he  was  taken  sorely  ill.  When  he  was  well  enough, 
or  at  least  so  pronounced,  to  move  at  all,  the  crisis  at 
the  capital  was  over.  McClellan  was  gone.  The  seat  of 
war  had  shifted  to  the  north.  Jack,  exchanged  and  re 
leased,  was  again  in  saddle,  and,  how  it  was  arranged 


STONEWALL   IN   AMBUSH  207 

Fred  never  heard  until  long  after,  father  and  daughter 
had  been  sent  to  Newport  News  with  the  wounded  and 
exchanged,  and  thence  had  gone  to  the  roof  of  the  doc 
tor's  devoted  sister  in  Washington.  Once  again  had 
the  great-hearted  President  sent  for  the  general's  aide- 
de-camp,  and  this  time  bade  him  go,  meet  the  Chiltons 
and  see  them  safely  to  their  destination. 

But  that  meeting  had  not  made  our  Badger  boy  too 
happy.  The  doctor  was  aging  fast  and  apparently 
breaking.  Rosalie  was  stern  and  strange.  Squire  Ben- 
ton,  with  Elinor,  as  he  had  long  planned,  hastened  on  to 
Washington  when  notified  by  wire  that  Fred  had  a 
week's  leave  from  the  front,  and  Fred's  earnest,  yet 
almost  humble  plea  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  bring 
his  father  to  see  Dr.  Chilton — his  sister  to  see  her — 
Rosalie  had  almost  curtly  refused.  Then  she  had  fairly 
stunned  him  by  saying,  "  If  you  really  wish  to  do  me  a 
favor,  Mr.  Benton,  there  is  one  man  I'd  like  to  meet, 
and  that  is — Major  Lounsberry."  Benton  should  have 
known  by  the  flash  in  her  eye,  the  fire  in  her  manner, 
the  fury  in  her  tone  that  for  no  sweet  assurance  did  she 
so  desire  to  see  that  distinguished  Virginian,  now  every 
moment  expectant  of  exchange,  but  in  her  nervous, 
fitful,  wrathful  state  when  not  needed  at  her  father's 
side,  Rosalie's  wondrous  face  had  an  almost  unearthly 
beauty,  and  in  Benton's  deep  and  passionate,  yet  seem 
ingly  helpless,  hopeless  love,  he  was  consumed  with 
unreasoning  jealousy,  and  went  back  to  the  front  sore- 
hearted.  Yet  it  was  through  his  planning,  after  all, 


208  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

that  they  met — the  blue-eyed  sister  who  so  surely  had 
read  her  brother's  secret — the  dark-eyed,  charing,  fit 
ful,  fuming  Virginia  beauty  who  so  surely  held  it. 
Women  at  least  will  know  with  what  veiled  scrutiny 
they  searched  each  other's  faces,  studied  each  other's 
every  point  and  pose  and  gesture,  and  they  had  ample 
time,  for  sea  air  had  been  ordered  for  Dr.  Chilton; 
Washington  was  torrid  and  unwholesome;  and  just  be 
fore  Fred  hurried  back  to  the  division  he  had  brief  con 
ference  with  his  father.  The  Chiltons  would  surely 
need  money,  said  he,  and  as  surely  refuse  it  if  tendered 
by  them.  Neither  the  doctor  nor  Rosalie  began  to 
know  until  long  months  thereafter  that  the  ample  means 
so  readily  supplied  by  the  doctor's  widowed  sister  came 
(as  she  did  not  know — not  too  readily)  from  that  hard- 
headed,  hard-fisted  Western  lawyer  who,  though  well- 
to-do,  had  earned  his  wealth  but  slowly,  and  whose  next 
move  was  to  Cape  May  with  Elinor :  there  was  little 
he  could  now  deny  that  boy  of  whom  the  President 
himself  had  so  highly  spoken  (proud  indeed  was  Fred 
of  that!),  and  there  were  they  still  recuperating  at 
the  Atlantic  seaboard,  the  fathers  already  friends,  the 
daughters  still  "  on  guard  "  at  the  very  moment  when 
Jack  Chilton,  scouting  with  the  advance  of  FitzHugh 
Lee's  brigade,  and  Paul  Ladue,  riding  the  dim  picket 
lines  of  Ewell's  grim  veterans,  and  Fred  Benton,  here  at 
Buckland's,  closing  in  with  that  strong,  disciplined  divis 
ion,  were  dreaming  not  ten  miles  apart  of  what  the  mor 
row  might  bring  forth. 


STONEWALL   IN  AMBUSH  209 

Not  until  the  shadows  grew  long  across  the  stubble 
fields  that  lovely  August  evening  came  the  first  fierce 
grapple  of  that  devoted  brigade.  Marching  at  dawn 
through  Buckland's,  they  found  the  pike  toward 
Gainesville  crowded  with  Sigel's  trains  and  teamsters 
(brought  along,  said  McDowell,  in  spite  of  orders), 
through  which  they  slowly  forced  a  way,  for,  far  in  the 
eastward  distance  little  snowball  puffs,  bursting  sudden 
into  view  above  the  treetops,  then  drifting  into  vapor 
ous  nothing,  told  the  shells  were  flying  fast  ahead,  while 
similar,  fleecy  cloudlets  against  the  dark  background 
of  the  Bull  Run  Range  told  equally  of  other  fighting 
to  their  left  and  rear.  'Twas  there  that  Buford  strove 
to  bar  the  road,  and  soldierly  McDowell,  looking  thither 
with  anxious  eyes,  turned  Ricketts  out  of  column,  and 
sent  him  back  with  his  whole  division  to  hold  that  pass. 
Reynolds,  with  his  "decimated  relic"  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Reserves,  had  gone  on  ahead  in  the  wake  of  Sigel's 
Corps,  but  all  were  out  of  sight  and  touch  when  the 
corps  commander,  with  his  one  division,  dove  into  the 
winding  wood  roads  toward  Manassas  until  brought 
up  standing  after  two  P.M.  by  disconcerting  news  from 
Pope — that  the  hare  had  not  waited  for  the  bag,  that 
swift-footed  Jackson  had  given  them  the  slip,  and  wasn't 
where  they  looked  for  him  at  all.  In  point  of  fact,  hav 
ing  no  cavalry  to  do  his  looking  for  him,  Pope  didn't 
know  where  Jackson  was. 

It  is  three  hours  later  when,  bidding  his  biggest  di 
vision  obey  its  new  orders,  just  received,  McDowell, 


210  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

deep  laden  with  that  commodity  which  paves  so  many 
squares  of  Sheol — the  best  intentions  in  the  world — 
rides  away  to  find  his  chieftain  Pope  and  show  him  the 
field.  Thereby  he  loses  Pope,  loses  touch  with  his  di 
visions,  loses  all  chance  of  usefulness  in  the  battle  that 
is  to  close  the  day — loses,  in  fact,  himself,  for  he  can 
not  find  his  way  to  his  own  command  over  the  field  he 
knew  so  well  the  year  before,  even  when  signalled  by 
the  guiding  thunder  of  the  heaviest  cannonade,  the  sul 
len  crashing  of  the  fiercest  volleying,  those  tangled 
woods  have  ever  heard.  At  five  or  thereabouts  comes 
staff  officer  from  Pope  with  these  astounding  tidings : 
Jackson  is  located.  Jackson  has  dared  to  cross  Bull 
Run  and  march  in  the  teeth  of  the  coming  corps  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  Reno  and  Kearny  have  fol 
lowed  his  rear  guard — Hill's  Light  Division — straight  to 
Centerville.  Where  is  General  McDowell?  Here! 
Well,  General  Pope's  orders  are  for  this,  McDowell's 
Corps,  to  retrace  its  steps  to  the  Warrenton  Pike,  then 
turn  eastward  and  march  forthwith  on  Centerville, 
whither  Jackson,  with  all  hands,  has  shifted  his  colors, 
and  where  Pope  now  proposes  to  apply  the  sack.  Fur 
ther  orders  will  meet  the  corps  on  the  way. 

Now  there  is  but  one  division  to  obey  the  order,  but 
loud  ring  the  bugles  through  the  leafy  woods.  Up 
spring  the  men  of  the  old  brigade,  refreshed  by  three 
hours'  rest,  with  coffee  and  hardtack  to  comfort  them 
ere  starting,  and,  as  the  heads  of  columns  reach  the 
Pike  again  and  turn  sturdily  away  eastward,  some  level- 


STONEWALL   IN   AMBUSH  211 

headed  band  leader  signals  to  his  men,  and  the  Black 
Hats  set  up  a  shout  as  the  woods  ring  to  the  rollicking 
strains  of  "  Ain't  I  glad  to  git  out  o'  de  Wilderness !  " 
Four  brigades  in  solid  column  they  swing  along  the 
broad,  dry  thoroughfare,  full  six  thousand  boys  in  blue. 
Those  in  the  lead,  at  least — those  now  under  Hatch  and 
Gibbon  who  have  been  long  in  the  division — are  stanch 
and  seasoned  men;  those  that  follow  under  Doubleday, 
three  Eastern  regiments,  for  some  reason  not  under 
stood,  seem  straggling  and  dispirited.  The  colonel  com 
manding  the  Seventy-sixth  New  York  ruefully  says  he 
can  muster  only  one  hundred  and  eighty  men  with  the 
colors,  the  rest  having  fallen  out,  "  exhausted  by  the  se 
verity  of  the  march."  Doubleday's  brigade  seems,  there 
fore,  little  bigger  than  one  of  Gibbon's  stalwart  Western 
regiments.  Rearmost  of  all,  far  back  toward  Gaines 
ville,  comes  Patrick,  with  his  presumably  well-con 
ditioned  command,  but  he  and  they  enter  not  into  what 
follows,  their  leader  claiming  later  that  he  "  had  no 
orders,"  and  so  contented  himself  with  looking  on  when 
by  pitching  in  on  the  exposed  flank  he  could  have  rolled 
the  Confederate  line  upon  itself  and  turned  the  struggle 
into  splendid  victory. 

But  if  Jackson's  real  movements  are  unknown  to  our 
generals,  rest  you  sure  the  eyes  of  his  army  have  not 
been  left  behind.  Early  that  very  morning  Old  Jack  has 
had  that  enterprising  young  brigade  commander,  Brad 
ley  Johnson,  scouting  out  toward  Gainesville,  and  John 
son  sends  young  Gaither  with  his  gray-clad  troop  spier- 


212  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

ing  still  further,  dodging  Sigel  and  Reynolds,  inter 
posing  betwixt  them  and  McDowell,  and  when  our 
confident  courier  comes  galloping  along  with  McDow 
ell's  despatch  to  these  others — to  Sigel  and  Reynolds — 
telling  them  just  what  is  planned  for  the  day,  Gaither 
gathers  him  in,  sends  the  much-appreciated  programme 
to  Johnson,  who  grins  with  delight,  and  passes  it  on  to 
Old  Jack  himself,  away  off  toward  Sudley  Springs, 
snoozing  with  his  division  commanders  Ewell  and 
Taliaferro,  on  their  soldier  pillows — saddles — in  the 
snake-fence  corner,  and  Jackson  wakes  to  read  and  to 
sudden  rejoicing.  Here  is  the  chance  of  a  lifetime ! 
Sigel  has  already  gone  on  through  Groveton  and  off 
over  Henry  house  hill.  Reynolds,  sparring  awhile 
with  Bradley  Johnson,  has  dived  into  the  woods,  going 
southward  from  Groveton.  Somewhere,  therefore, 
still  to  the  west,  must  be  two  of  McDowell's  divisions, 
alone.  And,  even  while  he  is  rousing  his  right  and  left 
bowers,  Ewell  and  Taliaferro,  there  comes  word  from 
Stuart  that  Ricketts  has  gone  out  to  Thoroughfare, 
and  McDowell,  with  one  isolated  division  is  marching 
eastward  from  Gainesville.  Now,  "  Up  guards  and  at 
'em!"  Up  Ewell  and  Taliaferro!  Up  guns  and  bri 
gades — batteries  three  and  brigades  just  five — for  John 
son  has  done  his  share  for  the  day,  and  away  they  go 
at  the  edge  of  the  sheltering  woods  until  nearly  three 
miles  out  to  the  southwest,  and  there  they  halt  and  the 
skirmish  lines  are  thrown  forward,  half  across  the  open 
fields  toward  the  Pike,  and  the  dusty,  grimy,  gray  bri- 


STONEWALL  IN  AMBUSH  213 

gades,  that  have  fought  and  won  all  over  eastward  Vir 
ginia,  lie  down  in  massed  double  columns  and  wait  for 
the  coming  of  that  devoted  division.  Famous  fellows 
are  these,  the  younger  Taliaferro  commanding  what  is 
eventually  the  right  brigade — the  men  of  Alabama  and 
Virginia — then  Baylor,  with  the  unrivalled  "  Stone 
wall,"  Jackson's  own — all  Virginian;  then  Stark  with  his 
Pelicans,  the  lads  from  Louisiana;  then  Lawton  with 
his  Georgians,  and  finally,  farthest  east,  our  old  Gor- 
donsville  acquaintance  Trimble,  with  five  regiments 
from  various  States.  Between  them  and  on  the  east 
ward  flank  are  the  guns  of  Poague,  Wooding  and  Car 
penter,  and  now  crouching,  confident,  devil-may-care 
these  pets  of  Old  Jack,  though  their  battalions  average 
not  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty,  under  leaders 
true  and  tried,  sprawl  in  the  shelter  of  the  trees — they, 
the  veterans  of  a  score  of  hard-fought  fields,  wherein 
they  have  seldom  been  denied,  waiting  to  pounce  upon 
a  Yankee  command  only  two  of  whose  regiments  have 
yet  been  in  battle.  No  wonder  Ewell, grins  at  the  pros 
pect  and  Taliaferro  smiles  with  confidence.  These  are 
the  fellows  that  thrashed  Schenck  and  Milroy  in  the 
valley,  sent  Banks  spinning  out  of  it,  sickened  Fre 
mont  of  his  command,  swooped  down  from  the  Shen- 
andoah  to  the  Chickahominy  when  McClellan  seemed 
sure  of  the  capital,  trounced  Fitzjohn  Porter  soundly 
at  Gaines's  Mill,  drove  the  Union  army  from  the  York 
to  the  James  and  hurled  themselves  with  fruitless  dar 
ing  on  the  guns  at  Malvern  Hill.  Then,  as  McClellan 


THE   IRON  BRIGADE 


took  to  his  boats,  turned  again  in  their  tracks  away  to 
the  Rapidan,  pounded  Banks  once  more  at  Cedar 
Mountain,  doubled  Pope  on  the  Rappahannock,  and 
now,  with  serene  confidence  in  the  result,  prepare  to 
swallow  with  their  supper  that  Pendulum  Division  of 
McDowell's  Corps. 

Off  to  the  right  front,  half-way  to  that  westward 
grove  is  a  cosey  farm-house  with  shaded  lawn  and  dot 
ting  fruit  trees  and  promise  of  eggs  and  butter,  even 
of  buttermilk  and  apple-jack,  and  Ewell  lets  his  wide 
awakes  go  sampling,  and  signifies  approval  and  takes  a 
hearty  sip,  as  a  dark-eyed  young  aide-de-camp  rides  up 
with  a  dripping  canteen  of  the  soothing  white  fluid. 
"  Thanks,  Mr.  Ladue,"  says  he.  "  That's  most  refresh 
ing.  By  the  way,  you  know  some  of  these  fellows  we're 
expecting  out  yonder,  don't  you  ?  "  and  the  general 
points  southward,  to  where  the  line  of  the  pike  stretches 
from  the  little  hamlet  of  Groveton  in  the  hollow  of 
Young's  Branch,  up  over  higher  ground,  hidden  here 
and  there  by  groves  that  cover  half  a  dozen  acres  each, 
but  is  generally  in  full  view  almost  all  the  way  to 
Gainesville,  lying  in  the  low  ground  to  the  west.  Ladue 
follows  the  gesture  of  his  commander,  and  then,  his 
eyes,  dark,  mournful  and  apprehensive,  fix  upon  that 
vehement  soldier  face.  "Wisconsin?"  he  falters.  "I 
felt  —  I  knew  it  must  come  —  sometime." 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  John  Gibbon  commands  that  brigade 
now,  they  say.  I've  known  him  years.  To  think  of 
his  being  there  —  and  he  a  Tar  Heel  !  "  And  here  his 


STONEWALL   IN   AMBUSH  215 

kindling  eyes  turn  to  where  Trimble's  men  are 
stretched  upon  the  turf — North  Carolina  closed  on 
Alabama. 

Even  as  Paul  Ladue,  dismounting,  is  wondering  if 
after  all  it  should  be  the  will  of  the  god  of  battles  that 
David  should  meet  Jonathan,  Damon  be  arrayed 
against  Pythias,  he  and  Fred  Benton  brought  face  to 
face  in  the  opposing  lines,  there  is  sound  of  stir  and 
excitement  down  toward  the  right.  "  Coming  ! " 
"They're  coming!"  "See!"  are  the  excited  whis 
pers,  and  young  officers  spring  forward  and  peer  over 
the  low  crest  in  front.  Poague,  that  year-old,  yet  vet 
eran,  gunner,  has  flipped  a  hand  to  his  bugler,  and  low 
and  muffled  "  Attention !  "  is  sounded.  Low  and  muf 
fled,  it  is  repeated  still  more  faintly  farther  off  to  the 
east,  where  the  horses  of  Wooding  and  Carpenter 
are  grazing  on  the  scanty  turf,  and  drivers  and  can 
noneers  spring  to  their  posts.  Officers  and  sergeants 
swing  into  saddle.  No  need  of  such  precaution, 
though.  From  far  over  to  the  southwest,  where  the  al 
most  horizontal  rays  of  the  setting  sun  flash  on  thick 
sheaves  of  gleaming,  slanting,  dancing  gun-barrels — 
they  can't  be  anything  else — there  come  floating  over 
the  open  fields  the  merry  strains  of  a  fine  brass  band, 
ringing  out  the  jolly  notes  of  a  popular  soldier  song, 
and  here  and  there  in  the  sprawling  ranks  bearded 
men  or  laughing  boys  take  up  the  jovial  chorus : 

"  Johnny  stole  a  ha-a-am 
And  didn't  care  a  da-a-a-m: " 


216  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

and  then,  triumphantly,  and  all  together : 

1 '  Ain't  I  glad  to  git  out  o'  de  Wilderness — 
Down  in  Alaba-a-a-m." 

"  Down  in  Alabam,  indeed !  "  grins  Ewell.  "  There's 
more  than  a  few  of  you'll  be  on  the  way  there  to-night, 
or  I'm  no  prophet,"  and  then,  for  the  last  time  in  many 
a  day,  he  mounts  his  ready  horse.  He  will  never  stand 
on  two  feet  again. 

But  Old  Jack  gives  no  sign.  He,  too,  is  waiting  and 
watching.  He,  too,  is  there  in  saddle  at  the  edge  of 
the  trees,  indistinguishable  in  the  gathering  gloom 
from  across  the  more  than  mile-wide  stretch  of  open, 
undulating  fields.  He  waits  until  the  leading  brigade 
of  the  long  column  is  clear  of  the  eastward  of  the  two 
groves.  He  lets  it  go  until  it  drops  into  the  low  ground 
about  Groveton — until  its  advance  is  at  the  Sudley 
Springs  road,  well  to  the  eastward — until  the  head  of  the 
second  brigade  in  column,  marching  in  splendid  order, 
with  full  and  well-closed  ranks,  comes  swinging  out  be 
hind  that  now  famous  patch  of  timber,  then  nods  to 
Ewell  and — the  ball  begins.  Out  on  a  sudden  from  the 
left  of  the  massed  lines,  Poague's  lean  horses  and  gaunt, 
sinewy  gunners  spring  to  their  work.  Six  black-muz 
zled  barkers  are  whirled  round  in  battery.  The  iron- 
shod  "  trails  "  drop  with  sullen  thud  on  the  turf.  The 
loosened  limbers,  with  dragging  traces,  circle  back  in 
position.  The  rammers  whirl  in  air  and  there  is  a  wheeze 
at  the  vents  as  the  sponge  heads  slide  home,  a  low 


STONEWALL   IN   AMBUSH  217 

thump,  thumping  as  the  cartridge  bags  are  rammed 
to  the  base.  There  is  a  moment  of  sighting  and  squint 
ing  and  low-muttered  orders,  then  a  leaping  aside,  and 
one — two — three, — quick  bellowing,  with  vengeful  spit 
of  flame  and  sulphur  smoke,  the  nearest  battery  hurls 
its  screaming  challenge  across  the  field,  and  in  spite 
and  fury  the  black  shells  burst  in  whistling  hail 
over  the  startled  heads  of  the  second  brigade.  Out  be 
yond  the  first  battery  trot  Wooding  and  Carpenter, 
forming  "  action  front "  on  the  slope  a  little  to  the 
northwest  of  Groveton,  and  so  three  batteries  are  sud 
denly  hurling  their  swift  fire  upon  the  now  halted 
column.  "  Now  see  'em  take  to  cover ! "  shout  the 
seasoned  ones  by  the  gun-side,  as  the  left  half  battery 
echoes  the  right,  and  all  the  front  of  Starke's  Brigade 
is  now  covered  by  flashing  guns,  bellowing  in  chorus, 
the  men,  leaping  in  and  out  to  reload,  dimly  seen 
through  the  billowing  battery  smoke,  and  still,  scream 
ing  and  shrieking  the  shells  sail  high  across  the  rolling 
earth  sea.  "  See  'em  take  to  cover,"  indeed !  Well 
might  they  do  so,  for  just  beyond  the  pike  the  woods 
lie  thick  and  unbroken,  but,  sudden  as  the  shot,  each 
regiment  has  "  fronted  "  to  its  left.  The  steel  ramrods 
of  the  foremost  are  seen  flashing  in  air.  The  shrill 
voice  of  Old  Graybeard,  spurring  back  to  his  colors, 
has  yelled  the  order  to  load  at  will,  and  not  until 
they've  bitten  and  poured  and  rammed  and  capped 
does  he  follow  that  with  "  Lie  down !  "  The  right  of 
their  line  is  flat  on  its  belly  at  the  edge  of  the  field, 


21$  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

while  spurring,  lashing  and  bounding,  cannoneers  rac 
ing  alongside  like  mad,  a  well-handled  battery — Gib 
bon's  own,  as  Poague  and  Ewell  more  than  suspect — 
the  beloved  of  the  brigade,  comes  thundering  up  the 
pike,  comes  galloping  out  on  the  field,  comes  "  front 
into  line  "  at  a  breakneck  pace,  whirls  without  halt 
ing  its  bronze  beauties  about,  and  in  another  moment 
the  loud-ringing  "  light  twelves "  are  out-bellowing 
the  trio  of  batteries  blazing  there  northwest  of  Grove- 
ton,  sweeping  their  sections  with  "  spherical  case." 
Five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes  the  duel  of  death  goes  on. 
Gibbon's  gunners  are  all  regulars,  lords  of  their  trade, 
and  old  Ewell  sees  it  and  knows  it.  "  Limber  up, 
Poague!  Back  all  of  you!  They  are  too  heavy  for 
our  guns ! "  is  the  order,  and  Paul  Ladue  spurs  to 
carry  it.  Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen  gunners!  It's  our 
time  now,  goes  the  word  from  Starke's  eager  ranks,  and 
so  on  down  the  long  line.  Into  their  saddles  leap  field, 
staff  and  commanders.  The  sun  has  gone  down;  the 
dusk  is  at  hand;  the  night  must  not  come  until  that  stub 
born  brigade  has  been  swept  from  the  earth.  Who 
shall  do  it,  Ewell  or  Taliaferro  ? 

From  the  westward  now,  from  the  far  right  flank,  a 
daring  battery  whips  out  on  the  field  and  unlimbers 
where  its  guns  can  enfilade  Gibbon's  triumphant  boom 
ers,  and  young  Taliaferro's  little  brigade,  till  now  held 
in  rear,  goes  striding  off  behind  its  fellows,  and  so  on  to 
the  extreme  right  as  though  in  support.  And  still  it  is 
a  battle  of  guns  and  gunners,  for  Jackson  holds  his 


STONEWALL   IN  AMBUSH  219 

hounds  in  leash,  "  down  charged  "  at  heel,  crouched  at 
the  edge  of  the  woods. 

And  then  comes  the  surprise  of  the  day,  the  event  of 
the  hour,  the  marvel  of  the  campaign.  Even  as  Ewell 
and  Taliaferro  are  deciding  that  the  moment  has  come 
for  attack,  lo!  to  the  amaze  of  the  men  of  the  Stonewall 
Brigade,  still  the  extreme  right  of  the  line,  there  is  a 
glint  of  steel  in  the  opposite  grove  and  a  dark  column 
bursts  from  the  depths  of  the  wood.  Nimbly  a  swarm 
of  skirmishers  leap  from  their  covert  and  come  dancing 
out  over  the  sward.  Straight  for  the  guns  drives  the 
daring  blue  line,  backed  by  eight  solid  companies,  closed 
on  the  colors  and  marching  abreast.  Fancy  the  canary 
defying  the  cat!  Fancy  the  terrier  bearding  the  tiger! 
Fancy  the  lamb  assailing  the  butcher,  and  you  have  the 
sensation  that  thrills  the  waiting  divisions  as  a  grizzled 
Georgia  colonel  slaps  down  his  field-glass  and  turns  to 
his  men  with  delight  in  his  eye  and  five  words  on  his 
tongue  :  "  The  Black  Hats— by  Goad !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HOW   THE   BRIGADE   WINS    ITS    NAME 

Over  at  the  southwest,  half  way  to  that  second  grove 
in  the  shelter  of  which  the  rearmost  brigade  has  halted, 
stand  that  little  orchard  and  nearby  farm-house,  a  barn 
or  two,  with  some  fences  and  a  decrepit  wall  of  jagged 
rocks.  Half  way  to  this  one  peaceful  spot,  to  the  right 
front  of  these  crouching,  staring,  incredulous  lads  of 
the  "  Stonewall,"  the  threatened  guns  are  thundering, 
the  gray  cannoneers  leaping  in  and  out  through  the 
billowing  clouds  of  sulphur  smoke.  Half  way  toward 
that  eastward  grove,  which  conceals  most  of  the  second 
in  column  of  the  blue  brigades,  this  solitary  battalion  in 
the  feathered  black  hats  and  the  wake  of  its  skirmishers, 
is  jauntily  proceeding  to  show  its  comrades  back  on  the 
pike  how  Bull  Run  veterans  take  a  battery.  Half  way 
between  the  two  groves,  halted  in  the  road  and  watch 
ing  the  scene  are  Doubleday's  three  battalions,  all  three 
not  as  strong  as  a  fair-sized  regiment.  Gibbon,  chief 
of  the  second  brigade,  has  led  the  Black  Hats  through 
the  wood,  then,  halting  at  the  edge  has  bid  them  go  in, 
their  swarthy  little  colonel  waving  his  hand  in  glad 
acceptance  of  the  trust — the  last  salute  of  his  soldier 


HOW   THE   BRIGADE   WINS   ITS   NAME  221 

life.  Almost  all  of  the  blue  division  can  be  seen  from 
the  north  by  the  men  of  the  South;  almost  nothing  of 
the  gray  divisions  can  be  seen  from  the  south  by  the 
men  of  the  North.  Gazing  through  their  binoculars, 
the  Union  commander  and  staff  note  not  a  sign  of  the 
foe,  save  these  venturesome  batteries,  the  one  her' 
directly  to  the  north,  the  others  slowly  trotting  off  to 
the  northeast  beyond  the  range  of  Gibbon's  guns.  Yet 
there  are  a  few  mounted  officers  or  orderlies  spurring 
swiftly  along  that  far-away  skirt  of  woods,  and  one  of 
these  horsemen  carries  the  order  from  Taliaferro,  chief 
of  division,  to  Taliaferro,  chief  of  brigade,  to  move  into 
line  on  the  right  of  Baylor— the  "  Stonewall."  Others 
are  darting  from  Old  Jack  to  Ewell  and  Taliaferro,  both, 
with  the  word  to  pitch  in. 

And  one  of  these  riders,  galloping  down  the  line, 
is  little  Ladue,  brought  face  to  face,  as  he  dreamed,  here 
on  the  field  of  battle  with  the  men  he  had  known  as  a 
lad  in  the  West,  and  though  his  heart  is  throbbing  hard, 
his  dark  eyes  are  burning  with  excitement,  his  "  soul  in 
arms  and  eager  for  the  fray,"  something  like  soldier 
sympathy  and  sorrow  stirs  him  to  the  core,  as  with 
laughing  confidence,  the  men  of  the  "  Stonewall  "  spring 
to  their  feet,  the  little  red  battle  flags  are  lifted  on  high, 
and  forward  goes  the  brigade,  sweeping  in  three  slender 
lines  to  the  low  crest  in  front,  as  their  far-forward  skir 
mishers  leap  from  the  grass  and  volley  their  challenge 
at  the  coming  foe.  Then  Georgia  and  Louisiana  and 
the  men  at  the  guns  hold  their  breath  and  watch  to  see 


222  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Virginia  send  those  impudent  Yanks  whirling  back  to 

the  woods,  or  else 

Then,  wonder  of  wonders!  So  far  from  scurrying  at 
sight  of  the  "  Stonewall,"  the  flower  of  Virginia,  the 
boast  of  the  South,  that  sombre,  black-crested  line  halts 
short  at  sudden  word  of  command;  the  rifle-butts  leap  to 
the  shoulders;  a  crashing  volley,  driving  point  blank  up 
the  gentle  rise,  sends  its  storm  of  murderous  lead  square 
in  the  "  Stonewall's  "  face.  Down  go  two  battle  flags. 
Down  goes  Neff,  colonel  commanding  the  Thirty-Third. 
Down  go  dozens  in  the  foremost  rank,  and  to  the  amaze 
of  Starke  and  Lawton,  the  "  Stonewall  "  fairly  staggers. 
"  Forward  !  "  is  one  hoarse-shouted  order,  "  Fire !  " 
another;  and  with  the  skirmishers  crouching,  crawling, 
rolling  away  to  right  and  left,  Virginia  blazes  at  Wis 
consin  now  ramming  fresh  cartridges  into  the  smoking 
tubes,  and  with  never  a  thought  of  retreat.  So  far  from 
sweeping  the  field  the  "  Stonewall  "  is  brought  to  a  halt 
and  gets  another  fierce  volley,  followed  by  rasping  fire  by 
file  that  is  far  more  effective  than  the  downward  aim  of 
the  command,  schooled  rather  to  charge  than  to  shoot. 
For  some  unfathomed  reason  the  Virginians  stand  and 
fire  instead  of  advancing  at  the  double,  perhaps  because 
so  many  leaders  are  felled  by  the  first  deadly  volleys  of 
those  insolent  Badgers,  fighting  alone  and  doubtless  un 
conscious  of  the  unseen  odds  against  them.  Taliaferro, 
division  chief,  spurs  angrily  forward  and  through  the 
thick  haze  of  the  battle  smoke  his  voice  can  be  heard 
ordering  Starke  into  line  with  Baylor,  for,  off  to  the 


The   rifle-butts  leap  to 
the  shoulders. — Page  222. 


HOW   THE   BRIGADE   WINS    ITS   NAME  223 

right  and  left,  beyond  the  dense  veil  through  which  the 
red  fires  are  spitting,  men  shout  of  the  coming  of  other 
blue  lines.  Sol  Meredith's  Hoosiers,  cheering  with  long- 
pent  enthusiasm,  in  full  double  rank  aligned  on  their 
colors,  are  sweeping  at  double  quick  straight  from  the 
pike  at  the  west  of  the  grove.  Arms  at  the  trail,  at  the 
shoulder  or  anyhow,  all  eyes  to  the  front,  all  hearts  on 
the  jump,  Indiana  is  heading  straight  for  the  left  of 
Wisconsin,  and  in  five  minutes  more  its  long  front  is 
hidden  in  its  own  fire-flashing  cloud,  and  it  is  high  time 
for  young  Taliaferro,  rushing  his  Third  brigadesmen 
round  the  right  rear  of  the  "  Stonewall "  to  make  a  try 
for  that  farm-house.  Another  five  minutes  and  he  and 
Meredith  are  clinched  at  the  corner;  another  brigade  is 
in  line  for  the  South,  another  battalion  for  the  Union, 
and  still  not  a  man  has  thought  of  retreat — save  only 
the  thick  stream  of  wounded  hobbling  painfully  back 
for  the  rear.  Then  Starke,  too,  comes  swiftly,  buoy 
antly  striding  over  the  low  rolling  plain  and  dips  into 
the  smoke  bank  that  floats  from  the  west,  ranging 
alongside  the  "  Stonewall  "  just  as  a  third  Yankee  regi 
ment,  filing  from  the  woods,  fronts  to  its  left  and,  with 
machine-like  precision,  "  playing  at  parade  at  the  edge 
of  the  grave,"  says  Ewell,  comes  forward,  guide  centre, 
its  color-bearer  out  to  the  front,  its  right  and  left  gen 
eral  guides  on  the  line,  its  captains  sprung  to  the  outer 
flanks  of  their  companies,  for  all  the  world  as  though 
they  were  calmly  doing  battalion  drill  at  Belle  Plaine. 
Its  "  dandy  "  lieutenant-colonel  is  in  command,  he  of 


224:  THE    IRON   BRIGAD^ 

the  famous  name,  for  already  its  colonel  and  major  have 
been  helped  to  the  rear,  shot  almost  as  they  issued  from 
the  wood.  Already  little  O'Connor,  heroic  leader  of 
the  Black  Hats,  mortally  stricken,  is  lying  gasping  in 
rear  of  his  wrathful,  swift-thinning  ranks.  Then  gal 
lant  May,  major  of  the  cheering  Hoosiers,  he  whom  we 
saw  the  dark  night  at  Centerville,  drops  from  his 
wounded  horse  to  the  arms  of  his  men,  his  soldier  spirit 
flitting  away  with  the  close  of  the  day.  Already,  far  on 
the  right,  old  Graybeard  Cutler  marches  the  Sixth 
straight  forward  past  Gibbon's  smoking  guns,  halts  his 
companies  on  the  line  with  Hamilton's  stalwart  Seventh, 
and,  all  four  regiments  now,  the  men  of  the  West  are 
blazing  red  against  the  black  background  of  the  distant 
woods,  for  night  and  hell  seem  to  come  down  together. 
In  the  fiercest  attack  of  the  hot  campaign,  Ewell  and 
Taliaferro,  five  to  one  in  point  of  brigades,  two  to  one  in 
point  of  numbers,  one  to  one  in  point  of  result,  bear 
down  on  the  ranks  of  that  gallant  command,  supple  as 
steel  as  it  leaps  to  the  fight,  rigid  as  rock  as  it  counters 
the  blow,  yielding  never  a  foot  to  that  splendid  advance. 
"  Shall  iron  break  the  Northern  iron — or  steel?  "  mut 
ters  Old  Jack,  in  the  words  of  the  prophet,  his  eyes  filled 
with  trouble,  his  teeth  firm  set  as  once  again  the  cheer 
ing,  banner-waving,  fire-flashing  ranks  of  his  devoted 
battalions  sweep  down  the  gentle  slope  until  almost  lost 
in  the  smoke  of  the  opposite  lines,  then  slowly  settle 
to  a  halt,  astounded,  for  though  full  half  of  its  left  wing 
seems  shot  out  of  line,  and  the  Hoosiers  and  Black  Hats 


HOW   THE   BRIGADE   WINS   ITS   NAME  ££5 

are  shrunk  to  half  their  original  strength  ;  there, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  daring,  defiant,  indomitable  stands 
the  brigade,  the  swart  faces  of  the  men  lit  by  the  flash  of 
their  guns,  and  Ewell,  grim  old  soldier,  borne  to  the  rear 
with  a  shattered  thigh,  groans  to  his  mournful  aides  that 
at  last  the  division  has  met  its  match. 

Jackson's  pale  face  is  rigid  as  he  himself  bends  over 
his  loyal  second  in  command,  and  his  lips  move  in 
prayer,  never  in  imprecation,  ere  they  issue  their  next 
order,  "  Try  again."  And  this  time,  Trimble,  too,  drives 
in  with  Lawton,  only  to  see  that  machinelike  regiment 
to  the  east  of  the  Black  Hats,  despite  the  numbers 
dropping  in  their  tracks  and  dribbling  away  from  the 
extreme  right  under  the  deluge  of  shrapnel  from  the 
Southern  guns,  doing  more  fancy  drill  in  front  of  the 
foe,  changing  front  forward  by  company  under  com 
mand  of  that  gamecock  of  a  lieutenant-colonel,  and  then 
pouring  withering  fire  into  the  left  of  the  Louisiana 
men.  "  Try  again,"  says  Jack,  and  try  they  do,  man 
fully,  loyally — but  heavens,  what  can  human  valor  win 
against  iron  resolution?  Two  of  Doubleday's  bat 
talions,  one  a  mere  skeleton  like  most  of  those  of  Bay 
lor's  and  Taliaferro's,  have  ranged  up  in  the  gaps  of  the 
Union  brigade,  a  shadowy  fabric  now,  visible  only  in 
the  flash  of  the  guns,  but  as  Paul  Ladue  trots  through 
the  groups  where  surgeons  and  stretchermen  are  trying 
to  care  for  the  vast  numbers  of  wounded,  he  looks  in 
vain  for  a  division  commander  to  whom  to  deliver  Jack 
son's  last  order  and  the  news  that  Ewell  is  down.  Talia- 


226  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

ferro,  too,  has  been  borne  to  the  rear,  and  Ladue  rides 
on  after  Starke  to  bid  him  take  command.  Gods,  what  a 
sight,  what  a  shambles,  he  finds  at  the  rear  of  that  line ! 
— dead, dying  and  crippled  by  scores  of  the  "Stonewalls." 
Three  colonels,  Neff,  Grisby  and  Botts  have  been 
shot  from  their  steeds,  two  of  them  straight  to  their 
graves;  four  majors  are  down  of  the  Virginia  command, 
and  Walker,  colonel  of  Taliaferro's  Tenth.  Full  half 
the  fighting  force  of  the  Second  and  Fourth  Virginia 
are  stretched  on  the  field,  as,  for  the  last  time,  they  close 
in  on  the  centre  in  front  of  the  now  almost  invisible  line 
of  their  foes,  and  with  strength,  cartridges,  hope  all 
spent  and  gone,  they  drop  their  useless  rifle  butts  to 
earth  and  lean  exhausted  on  the  hot,  black  muzzles.  At 
least  they  hold  the  ground. 

So,  too,  does  that  stern,  silent,  iron  command  across 
those  fifty  yards  of  smoking  void,  "  with  obstinate  deter 
mination,"  writes  Old  Jack,  in  rueful  admission  of  the 
stubborn  valor  of  his  foe.  And  after  all  what  has  he 
accomplished?  What  has  he  not  done  this  night  but 
blunder?  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  remain  there  in  con 
cealment  beyond  that  unfinished  railway  grade,  resting 
in  the  shady  woods,  and,  all  unconscious  of  his  presence, 
the  Union  brigades  would  have  passed  him  by.  The 
division  commander  had  no  cavalry  to  scout  for  him. 
The  few  flankers  thrown  out  to  the  north  by  Hatch 
found  nothing,  until,  looking  back  from  the  low  ground 
about  Groveton,  they  saw  the  batteries  trot  out  on  the 
open  slope.  Left  unmolested  to  obey  its  orders  that 


HOW   THE   BRIGADE   WINS    ITS   NAME  227 

fine  division  would  have  gone  clear  on  to  Centreville, 
leaving  Ricketts  far  in  rear  to  be  cut  off,  crushed  or 
captured.  But  the  sight  of  six  thousand  Yankees 
marching  along  almost  parallel  to  his  front,  all  unsup 
ported,  was  too  much  for  even  such  piety  as  Jackson's. 
Ordinarily  he  had  done  wonders  with  a  dozen  regiments 
nearly  as  small  as  these.  To-night  he  sends  in  twice 
that  number  to  assail  a  smaller  force,  and  is  fought  to 
a  stand  within  the  hour.  He  has  gained  nothing.  He  has 
lost  one-third  of  his  best  and  bravest — his  Virginians. 
He  has  betrayed  his  position  to  the  enemy,  for  Sigel, 
away  to  the  southeast,  has  heard  the  sound  of  battle, 
and  McLean,  brave  leader  of  one  of  his  few  American 
brigades,  watches  the  desperate  struggle  from  Ladue's 
old  lookout  at  the  Henry  house,  and  Pope,  skillfully 
directing  his  diverging  columns  to  trap  Jackson  at 
Centreville,  hears  over  the  left  shoulder,  far  over 
Bull  Run,  the  furious  cannonade  a  long  league  behind 
him,  the  storm  of  a  battle  that  only  dies  out  at 
nine,  but  that  tells  him  the  tale  of  one  more  trick 
of  Jackson's — the  time-honored  tale  of  the  Irishman's 
flea. 

But  it  opens  Pope's  otherwise  blinded  eyes,  changes 
in  toto  his  plans  for  the  morrow,  and  bids  him  turn  his 
columns  on  Groveton.  Jackson's  blunder  has  taken 
much  from  his  own  fame,  added  much  to  those  of 
another,  and  given  the  Badgers  and  Hoosiers  the  title 
they  rejoice  in  ever  thereafter — the  name  of  the  Iron 
Brigade. 


228  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

Sore  times  are  these,  this  black,  moonless  night,  as, 
within  hailing  distance  of  each  other,  officers  and  men 
of  the  opposing  forces  go  groping  about  with  glimmer 
ing  lights,  looking  for  friends  among  the  slain.  Sad 
hearts  are  these  beating  in  the  bosoms  of  the  group  of 
Union  generals  in  the  fence  corner  back  of  the  moaning 
wood,  for  it  is  full  of  wounded.  The  regimental  com 
manders  are  slowly  withdrawing  their  wearied  men  to 
the  line  of  the  pike,  leaving  strong  pickets  to  protect 
the  surgeons  and  their  stretcher-bearers  at  the  front. 
It  is  a  dramatic  scene  when  that  dark-eyed  soldier,  com 
mander  of  the  Seventh,  rides  in  to  report  to  his  brigade 
chief  concerning  the  regiment  that  caustic  "  regular  " 
has  sometimes  misjudged.  "  What  do  you  think  of  the 
Seventh  now?  "  is  the  irrepressible  question  just  before 
the  colonel  slips,  fainting,  from  his  saddle,  and  then  and 
not  until  then  permits  it  to  be  known  that  all  the  time 
as  he  held  his  men  to  their  desperate  work,  he  sat  his 
horse,  pierced  through  both  thighs  by  Enfield  bullet, 
his  boots  running  over  with  blood.  Old  Graybeard  of 
the  Sixth,  too,  is  shot  through  the  leg,  and  Gibbon  has 
borrowed  his  right-hand  man,  the  tall,  brainy  adjutant, 
and  the  Sixth  feels  bereft,  though  it,  too,  falls  into 
soldier  hands.  But  the  Black  Hats  and  Hoosiers  have 
lost  more  than  all. 

At  nine  o'clock,  as  the  last  scattering  shots  are  fired 
out  to  the  northwest,  where  some  of  Stuart's  fellows 
have  stumbled  on  the  Hoosier  pickets  in  the  darkness, 
the  division  general  sends  an  aide  with  brief  note  to 


HOW   THE   BRIGADE  WINS   ITS   NAME  229 

Ricketts,  telling  him  of  the  battle,  and  saying  he  means 
to  hold  the  ground  despite  the  fact  that  prisoners  report 
old  Stonewall  sixty  thousand  strong.  He  sends  other 
staff  officers  in  search  of  McDowell,  his  corps  com 
mander,  with  similar  report  and  the  request  that  Rick 
etts  be  ordered  to  close  in  and  support  him.  Mc 
Dowell's  own  engineer  officer  is  with  him,  a  deeply 
interested  witness,  coming  up  with  Hatch's  brigade, 
which,  hurriedly  recalled,  had  faced  about  and  marched 
eagerly  back,  hoping  to  be  of  use,  but  reaching  the  field 
only  as  darkness  settled  on  the  line.  So  the  engineer 
stays  to  hear  the  reports  and  views  of  the  various  com 
manders  before  going  himself  in  search  of  his  chief, 
stays  long  enough  to  give  his  opinion  that  the  division 
must  move  off  the  pike  to  the  right  or  suffer  demolition 
at  dawn,  and  this,  too,  is  the  opinion  of  Hatch  and  Gib 
bon,  sitting  with  their  division  commander,  and  it  is 
urgently  given  by  both. 

Four  hours  longer  they  watch  and  wait,  hoping  for 
tidings  from  Pope  or  McDowell,  looking  for  the  coming 
of  Ricketts  from  the  west,  but  nothing  comes,  not  a  line, 
not  a  word  from  superior  authority,  only  a  hint  from 
superior  force,  for  a  daring,  dashing  Virginia  captain, 
riding  blindly  into  a  Badger  picket  north  of  the  grove, 
is  dragged  from  under  his  dying  horse — he  had  striven 
to  dash  away — and  he  laughs  at  our  missing  a  much 
bigger  prize — Old  Jackson  himself,  not  a  moment  be 
fore,  was  with  him  just  in  front  of  that  very  point,  he 
says,  and  Longstreet  is  coming  at  dawn.  Ricketts, 


230  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

driven  in  before  his  overwhelming  advance,  is  halted  at 
Gainesville,  while  Stuart's  patrols  sweep  the  fields  to  the 
north  and  keep  up  touch  between  these  two  wing  com 
manders.  There  is  nothing  for  it  then,  urge  the  brig 
adiers,  but  slip  off  southeastward  in  hopes  of  support, 
and  Fred  Benton,  riding  out  to  the  left  front  with  orders 
to  bring  in  the  pickets,  finds  those  venturesome 
Hoosiers  crawling  forward  on  hands  and  knees,  beyond 
the  original  line 

"  There  was  a  horse  battery  came  out  there  just  be 
fore  dusk,"  explains  a  young  sergeant,  "  and  it  just 
rained  shrapnel  on  us.  Some  of  Stuart's  fellows  gal 
loped  down  to  slice  off  our  left.  We  gave  'em  a  hot 
volley  and  they  sheered  away,  but  tried  it  twice  again 
after  dark.  We've  sent  in  all  our  wounded,  but 
our  boys  swear  they  hear  faint  cries  for  help  out 
yonder." 

They  are  right!  Presently  they  come  drifting  in, 
four  wearied  soldiers,  bearing  a  wounded  trooper  on  a 
blanket.  Benton  is  busy  giving  orders  to  the  subaltern 
in  charge  and  does  not  hear  at  first  the  words  of  the 
sergeant.  "  He  says  he  was  carrying  orders  and  his 
horse  fell  and  rolled  on  him.  His  leg's  broken,  I  think, 
but  he'd  never  have  whimpered  only  he  thought  we 
were  friends." 

"What '11  we  do  with  him  if  I'm  to  fall  back?"  asks 
the  lieutenant.  "  He's  an  officer." 

Benton  turns  to  the  dim  group,  slowly  bearing  their 
burden  with  them. 


HOW  THE   BRIGADE   WINS   ITS   NAME  £31 

"  Better  carry  him  to  the  grove,"  he  says.  "  Take 
him  where  your  wounded  officers  are."  Whereupon  he 
in  the  blanket  feebly  pipes,  "Hello,  Benton!  Got  a 
mouthful  of  drink?" 

"  Good  God,  Chilton!    Have  we  caught  you — again?  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   HEART   OF   LINCOLN 

Solemn  days  are  these  that  follow.  Losing  over  a 
third  of  its  force  engaged  in  this  furious  initial  battle, 
the  brigade  shares  the  lot  of  the  rest  of  the  army  and, 
after  two  days  more  of  fruitless  fighting  is  ordered  to 
fall  back  on  Washington.  Many  of  the  wounded 
officers  have  been  sent  in  ahead,  without  discrimination 
as  to  friend  or  foe,  and  Benton's  general,  broken  down 
by  illness  and  exhaustion,  is  borne  by  ambulance  to  the 
capital,  and  bids  Fred  go  in  search  of  his  prisoner 
friend.  How  the  tables  of  war  are  turned!  Four 
months  ago  that  young  Virginian  lay  in  clover  at  Char- 
lottesville,  petted  and  soothed  by  the  prettiest  girls  to 
be  found  in  the  court  of  Queen  Rosalie,  while  Benton,  a 
prisoner  patient,  moped  in  huffy  dignity  and  merited 
semi-neglect.  Now  the  Virginian  lies  in  splints  and  a 
stuffy  room  in  parboiled  Washington,  far  from  the 
pretty  girls  of  Albemarle,  yet  assiduously  cared  for  by 
their  Queen.  Washington  is  now  one  vast  hospital, 
whose  walls  echo  night  and  day  the  moan  of  fevered  suf 
ferer,  the  dull  thunder  of  distant  guns,  the  rumble  of 
rolling  cannon,  the  tramp  of  soldier  hosts,  for  Lee  has 
leaped  the  Potomac  and  gone  careering  northward  to- 


THE   HEART  OF  LINCOLN  233 

ward  the  Pennsylvania  line.  Pope,  McDowell  and  Sigel 
have  retired  in  favor  of  McClellan,  Hooker  and  Porter, 
the  little  chief  again  called  to  the  fore,  while  the  man 
ager  of  the  sack  campaign  sits  down  to  figure  out  the 
twistings,  turnings  and  doublings  of  the  hare  that 
wouldn't  be  caught  until  there  were  hares  enough  to 
smother  the  hounds.  Many  and  ingenious  are  the  ex 
planations  of  failure: — generals  ordered  to  march  who 
chose  rather  to  sleep, — of  generals  ordered  to  find  the 
corps  of  Jackson  who  couldn't  find  their  own, — generals 
ordered  to  stand  who  never  got  the  order,  and  who 
would  have  been  crushed  if  they  had, — generals  ordered 
to  bar  Jackson's  retreat  when  he  never  thought  of 
retreating, — generals  ordered  to  bar  Longstreet's  join 
ing  when  he  had  already  joined, — orders  sent  by  staff 
officers  who  never  could  thereafter  be  found, — orders 
declared  sent  to  division  generals,  since  admitted  sent 
not  at  all.  It  is  a  fortnight  of  fruitless  recrimination, 
of  pushing  for  place  and  not  for  the  foe,  of  intrigue  and 
slander,  of  loyal  victims  and  disloyal  triumph.  It  is  a 
fortnight  in  which  the  fortunes  of  the  Union  seem  drift 
ing  to  the  lowest  ebb,  with  all  the  mud  and  slime  and 
wreckage  and  putrescence  hitherto  hidden  in  the  surg 
ing  tide  of  the  campaign,  now  revealed  to  public  gaze,  a 
stench  to  public  nostrils.  It  is  a  fortnight  of  funerals. 
Ah,  what  hundreds  of  gallant  boys  have  we  to  mourn, 
what  scores  of  noble  names  on  both  sides!  Wrung 
to  the  uttermost  is  the  great,  lonely,  pitying  heart  of 
him  now  day  and  night  striving  to  bring  order  out  of 


'234  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

chaos,  hope  out  of  the  slough  of  despond,  victory  from 
dire  and  persistent  defeat.  Small  wonder  is  it  that  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  tremendous  peril  that  confronts 
the  nation,  Lincoln  can  find  little  time  to  listen  to  innu 
merable  personal  appeals,  to  individual  claims  presented 
by  insistent  senators,  to  the  stories  of  self-seeking,  self- 
sufficient  patriots  demanding  the  doing  of  this,  the  un 
doing  of  that.  It  is  a  fortnight  in  which  Stanton,  at  the 
war  office,  is  overwhelmed  with  work  and  worry,  and 
grows  even  more  testy  and  imperious.  It  is  a  fortnight 
in  which,  despite  orders  and  precautions,  swarms  of 
officers  who  should  be  with  their  commands  are  buzzing 
about  Congress  and  the  caravanserais,  when  every  man 
is  needed  at  the  front  and  thousands  are  skulking  at  the 
rear,  when  the  regiments  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
and  of  Virginia  that  marched  forth  in  the  springtide  in 
such  splendid  array,  with  such  crowded  ranks,  are 
silently,  shabbily  slipping  through  the  outskirts,  mere 
ragged  shadows  of  their  former  selves,  yet  to  their 
everlasting  credit  be  it  said,  loyal  and  subordinate  still, 
and  confident  in  their  faith  that  they  can  yet  whip  Lee. 
It  is  a  fortnight  in  which  many  and  many  a  sad-faced 
soldier  comes  away  from  the  War  Department,  even 
from  the  White  House,  denied  a  favor  that  at  any  other 
time  would  have  been  accorded  as  by  right,  and  one 
September  evening,  Benton  and  the  Squire,  summoned 
to  accompany  their  senator  to  the  President,  are  wit 
nesses  to  a  scene  that  wrings  their  very  hearts. 

The  Squire  has  been  long  enough  near  Washington 


THE   HEART   OF   LINCOLN  235 

to  become  an  ardent  administration  man.  Only  twice 
in  the  past  has  he  seen  the  plain,  unassuming  Western 
lawyer,  the  humorous  M.  C.  who  had  not  reputation 
enough  to  command  an  audience  when  in  '59  he  came' to 
speak  at  the  Squire's  home  city,  but  later,  when  they 
met  at  the  Tremont  in  Chicago,  was  the  rival  of  the  little 
giant,  Douglas,  in  joint  debate.  Now,  just  as  Douglas 
had  held  the  hat  of  the  victorious  Lincoln  during  his 
inaugural  address,  so  would  Squire  Benton  go  to  any 
length  to  back  this  inspired,  and,  as  Benton  is  now  be 
ginning  to  believe,  God-given  leader.  More  troops 
must  be  had  without  delay  is  the  burden  of  what  the 
senator  says.  Will  Benton  go  West  at  once  and  use 
his  utmost  influence?  Benton  will.  He  has  only  come, 
he  says,  to  assure  himself  that  Fred  is  safe — to  see 
Elinor,  now  scorning  the  sea-breezes  of  Cape  May  and 
insisting  on  her  right  to  be  useful  as  a  nurse  among  the 
hospitals.  Then  the  Squire  will  start  within  the  day. 
Meantime,  says  the  senator,  we  must  see  the  President, 
and  then  there  is  a  further  muttered  conversation  that 
Fred  cannot  hear,  nor  does  he  care  to.  His  one 
thought,  after  seeing  that  Jack  Chilton  lacks  nothing — 
after  one  little  word,  perhaps,  with  Jack's  no  longer  im 
perious  sister — is  to  rejoin  the  division  as  it  comes 
through  with  the  now  reorganizing  corps.  But,  mean 
while,  it  is  the  senator's  wish  they  should  both  go  with 
him  to  the  White  House,  and  there,  amidst  the  throng 
of  importunates  in  the  ante-room,  Fred  is  startled  to  see 
the  colonel  of  a  regiment  in  the  First  Brigade  holding 


236  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

low-toned  conversation  with  a  portly,  dignified  man  in 
black  swallow-tailed  coat,  high  stock  and  silken  waist 
coat,  to  whom  their  Western  statesman  bows  with 
deference  and  then  whispers  to  them  his  name.  Then 
the  colonel  turns  and  Benton  is  more  startled  to  see 
how  sad,  sorrow-stricken  and  haggard  he  looks.  The 
matter  is  soon  explained,  though  the  colonel  speaks 
with  choking  voice.  His  son,  a  lieutenant  in  the  Fifth 
New  York — Duryea's  Zouaves — had  been  down  with 
Chickahominy  fever  at  Newport  News,  so  ill  that  the 
mother  had  hastened  thither,  nursed  him  through  and 
then  stayed  and  cared  for  dozens  of  poor  boys  whose 
mothers  could  not  possibly  reach  them,  and  so,  sapped 
her  own  strength  and  finally  succumbed,  and  now — her 
coffined  body  lies  here  at  the  wharf.  Their  sympathetic 
general  had  given  the  bereaved  soldier  permission  to 
turn  over  the  command  of  the  regiment  temporarily  and 
to  seek  at  Stanton's  hands  a  four  days'  leave — just  time 
enough  to  take  the  beloved  and  honored  dust  back  to 
the  home  where  weeping  younger  children  await  it. 
Then,  the  last  sad  rites  performed,  though  the  wife  of 
his  youth,  his  manhood,  his  maturer  years,  the  love  of 
his  heart  and  life  is  laid  away,  he  will  return  instantly  to 
his  duty,  his  command.  Impossible  will  it  be  for  them 
to  catch  Lee  within  that  time.  No  battle  can  occur  that 
will  involve  the  old  division,  but  Stanton  sternly  says  no; 
bids  him  ship  the  remains  that  night  if  need  be,  but  re 
join  his  regiment  before  the  morning. 

"  The  brigade  is   marching  through   this   moment," 


THE   HEART  OF  LINCOLN  237 

says  the  colonel,  with  quivering  lips,  "  but  the  Senator 
brought  me  here — to  the  President.  I  have  tele 
graphed  to  a  brother  to  come  if  I — must  go,"  and  the 
haggard  eyes  look  in  dumb  appeal  across  the  room 
where  looms  the  equally  haggard  face  of  Lincoln,  now 
turned  in  mute  patience  toward  an  impetuous,  persistent 
little  woman,  who,  backed  by  certain  friends  at  court,  is 
demanding  that  the  President  reverse  the  decision  of  the 
adjutant-general  and  send  a  soldier  son  to  duty  nearer 
home  than  with  Butler  in  New  Orleans  where  surely 
he'll  catch  the  yellow  fever  and  die.  The  whole  room 
can  hear  her.  The  President  is  the  only  man,  not  of 
her  immediate  retinue,  that  does  not  show  impatience. 
It  may  be  here  and  now  he  thinks  of  the  famous  story 
he  tells  at  another  time, — the  story  of  the  good  old  lady 
who,  when  the  St.  Lawrence  steamer  was  shooting  the 
Lachine  rapids  and  the  captain  stood  absorbed  in  the 
duty  of  guiding  his  ship  and  living  cargo  safely  through, 
startled  every  one  by  a  cry  of  "  Stop,  and  lower  a  boat — 
my  little  boy's  lost  his  apple."  Not  for  worlds  will  even 
that  worn,  heart-wrung,  nerve-racked  leader  say  the 
word  to  wound  a  mother.  But,  oh,  the  infinite  sadness 
of  the  smile  with  which  he  speaks, — his  voice  so  low  and 
gentle  only  those  about  him  can  hear,  and  she  is  finally 
led  away  with  a  card  to  the  "  house-keeper," — the  best 
the  President  can  do,  he  says,  "  for  I  don't  seem  to  have 
much  influence  with  this  administration."  Then  he 
gives  hand  and  greeting  to  the  great  senator  from  New 
York,  another  to  the  colonel,  hurriedly  presented,  and 


238  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

inclines  that  ever-patient  ear  to  both,  as  again  the  sad, 
pathetic  tale  is  told.  Oh,  the  pity  and  sorrow  and  sym 
pathy  in  the  deep-set,  sombre  eyes,  the  anguish  in  the 
rugged  features  as  he  hears  the  final  words,  "  Stanton 
says  no,  because  the  brigade  is  marching  through  this 
moment." 

For  an  instant  the  strong  hands  are  clenched  and  up 
lifted  almost  as  though  in  appeal  to  heaven,  but  though 
the  deep  voice  breaks  and  trembles,  though  the  pallid 
lips  twitch  with  pain,  the  answer  comes  inflexibly: 

"  And  no  it  must  be!  Not  a  man,  not  a  musket,  can 
we  spare.  It  may  be  the  very  crisis  of  the  war,  and  I 
should  be  false  to  my  trust  if  I  did  not  hold  myself  and 
every  soldier  to  the  duty  of  the  hour.  Let  the  dead 
bury  their  dead.  I  cannot  rob  a  regiment  of  its  leader 
at  such  a  time." 

And  the  two  men,  the  sorely  grieving  colonel,  the 
sorely-tried  commander-in-chief,  look  one  instant  into 
each  other's  swimming  eyes.  There  is  a  soldier  salute 
— but  utter  silence,  and  the  colonel  turns  away. 

"  You  don't  need  me  here,"  gulps  Fred  a  moment 
later.  "  I  am  going  to  see  if  I  can  help  the  colonel. 
There's  no  one  with  him.  I'll  come  to  you,  father,  later 
—at  Willard's. 

And  so  it  happens  that,  riding  at  the  earliest  dawn  to 
catch  the  division,  Benton  passes  a  carriage  at  the  out 
skirts  of  Georgetown,  preceded  by  a  cavalry  sergeant 
who  speaks  a  word  to  sentries  or  patrols  of  the  provost 
guard  to  the  end  that  the  vehicle,  with  its  attendant 


THE   HEART   OF   LINCOLN  239 

brace  of  troopers,  meets  no  detention,  whereas  he,  an 
aide-de-camp  going  on  duty,  has  to  account  for  himself 
every  few  blocks.  "  Some  belated  general,"  thinks  he 
as,  once  clear  of  the  streets,  he  spurs  swiftly  up  the 
Rockville  pike.  He  has  had  his  few  cheering  words 
with  Jack.  He  has  found  Elinor,  his  sister,  vying  with 
Rosalie,  his  queen,  in  attention  to  the  captive.  He 
could  wish  that  sister  elsewhere,  for  not  a  word  has  he 
alone  with  the  girl  who  holds  his  heart.  (It  is  doubtful 
if  he  would  have  had  other  luck  had  Elinor  been  away.) 
So,  perhaps,  like  the  girls  at  Charlottesville,  his  sister 
had  fallen  under  the  sway  of  the  stronger  nature.  He 
has  been  with  that  silent,  grief-stricken  soldier  colonel 
until,  between  them,  they  have  seen  the  coffined  relics 
safely  stored  in  a  sexton's  charge.  Then,  with  long 
hand  clasp  he  leaves  him  with  his  dead  and  goes  to  say 
farewell  to  his  father.  It  is  long  past  midnight  now,  but 
Washington  still  wakes,  and  finally,  just  as  the  pallid 
light  is  creeping  into  the  eastward  sky  Benton  reins  in 
at  the  challenge  of  a  sentry  and  the  sight  of  a  tented 
field.  Behind  him,  in  the  lower  ground,  feebly  glow  the 
night  lights  of  Georgetown.  Beyond  them  lies  the 
great,  straggling  city.  Here,  close  at  hand,  a  sentry 
paces  slowly  by  the  roadway,  recognizes  the  aide-de 
camp  at  once  and  bids  him  advance.  A  dim  light  burns 
in  a  nearby  wall  tent.  "  Yes,  sir,  the  colonel  got  back 
soon  after  three,"  is  the  answer  to  his  question,  as, 
swinging  out  of  saddle,  Benton  throws  the  reins  over  a 
fence  post  and  scratches  at  the  tent  flap. 


240  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Tis  I,  Colonel— only  Benton.  I  stopped  to  see " 

But  the  tent  flap  is  thrown  back  from  within  and  a 
voice  bids  him  enter.  "  I've  been  writing  to — my  poor 
motherless  babies/'  chokes  the  colonel,  and  then  at  last 
breaks  down,  bows  his  humbled  head  upon  his  arm  on 
the  rude  camp  table  that  shakes  with  the  sobs  wrung 
from  an  almost  bursting  heart.  Who  can  picture,  much 
less  soothe,  a  grief  like  this  ?  Benton  has  seen  him  time 
and  again,  ever  alert,  ready,  vigorous  on  the  march, 
cheery  and  cordial  in  all  manner  of  wind  and  weather, 
inspiring,  commanding,  magnificent  in  battle,  God-like, 
almost,  in  his  superb  dominion  over  men.  But  it  is  the 
strong  and  soldierly  and  virile  that  love  the  deepest  and 
that  suffer  most  when  robbed  of  the  heart's  idol  and  de 
light.  "  The  bravest  are  the  tenderest.  The  loving 
are  the  daring."  And  in  wordless  sympathy  Benton  can 
only  lay  his  hand  upon  the  massive  shoulder  while  the 
teardrops  well  from  his  own  brimming  eyes. 

And  then  there  are  voices,  low  and  deep,  without  the 
tent,  and  then  a  footfall  close  at  hand,  and  a  tall,  dark 
form,  enveloped  in  a  cloak,  looms  between  them  and  the 
gathering  dawn,  and  Benton,  staring  and  only  half  cred 
ulous,  stammers  the  question,  "Who  is  it?"  Then 
both  men  stand  erect  and  face  the  newcomer  at  the 
first  sound  of  his  deep  yet  trembling  voice. 

"  It  is  I — Abraham  Lincoln."  (Can  it  ever  be  written 
save  in  reverence?)  "  I — I  have  come  to  you  because — 
all  night  long  since  you  left — I  could  think  of  nothing 
else.  I  have  not  slept.  I  have  been  pacing  the  floor 


THE   HEART   OP   LINCOLN  241 

until  I  could  stand  it  no  longer.  You  came  to  me  last 
night  in  your  bitter  sorrow,  and  I — treated  you  like  a 
dog.  That  noble  woman  died  after  giving  new  life  to  a 
host  of  stricken  soldiers,  after  giving  back  to  the  nation 
scores  of  sorely  needed  men,  and  now,  when  it  pleases 
God  to  call  her  home  to  him  I  forbid  the  poor  honor  of 
escort  to  the  man  she  most  loved.  Forgive  me,  colonel. 
Go  to  her.  Take  her  back  to  your  children,  and  when 
you  have  laid  her  away  and  comforted  them, — then 
return  to  us.  Go,  sir — it  is  my  order,"  and,  wringing 
the  soldier's  hands,  the  President  turns  again  to  the 
cares  and  trials,  the  cruel  anxieties  of  another  day,  but 
the  deep-lined  face,  uplifted  to  the  glory  of  the  dawn, 
shines  transfigured  with  a  radiance  indescribable, — with 
who  can  say  what  infinite  cheer  and  comfort  and  bless 
ing  from  on  High. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

KILLED  IN  FRONT  OF  THE  GUNS 

"How  are  the  mighty  fallen!"  at  least  in  point  of 
numbers.  Still  under  the  leadership  of  sharp-eyed, 
sharp-tongued  Gibbon,  the  brigade  has  trudged  away 
to  South  Mountain,  conscious  that  it  is  now  the  ob 
served  of  many  observers,  and  feeling  not  a  little  cocky 
in  its  new  name.  Manfully  again  has  it  grasped  the  hot 
end  of  the  poker,  being  sent  into  the  very  jaws  of 
Turner's  Gap  with  Colquitt  and  his  Georgians  directly 
confronting  it,  and  Evans  raking  the  doubled  line  from 
the  hill  on  the  right.  Again  does  the  Seventh  catch  it 
hard  from  the  flank,  losing  more  than  a  third  of  its  men. 
Again  do  the  Black  Hats  sail  in  with  their  accustomed 
saucy  vim  and  vigor,  tieing  the  Hoosiers  in  the 
total  of  losses.  Again  are  the  big  "  Napoleons,"  the 
pets  of  Battery  "  B,"  lugged  into  line,  side  by  side  with 
the  "  Foot,"  and  mightily  do  they  bellow  and  roar  in 
this  resounding  amphitheatre — the  eastward  slope  of  the 
ridge.  It  is  the  second  fierce  fight  in  which  these  pow 
erful  guns,  manned  by  picked  men  from  the  brigade,  take 
their  share  of  hard  knocks  with  the  four  battalions;  but 
a  fiercer  fight  is  yet  to  follow — only  three  days  away — 
one  which  welds  the  battery  still  more  firmly  to  its  sup- 


KILLED  IN  FRONT  OF  THE  GUNS  343 

ports.  On  the  far  right  flank,  in  front  of  Sharpsburg, 
across  the  sleepy  Antietam,  it  comes  in  for  its  hardest 
pounding  of  all  the  stirring  campaign. 

But  by  this  time,  mid  September,  as  Lee's  daring, 
determined  followers  halt  on  the  heights  of  the  old 
Maryland  town,  with  the  Potomac  encircling  them  from 
northwest  to  south,  the  winding  Antietam  protecting 
their  front,  how  cruelly  are  they,  too,  reduced  in  num 
bers  !  Our  old  opponents,  the  "  Stonewalls/'  in  their 
entire  array  can  barely  muster  five  hundred  men.  Regi 
ments  are  commanded  by  captains,  companies  by  ser 
geants,  and  as  it  is  with  Jackson  so  it  is  with  Long- 
street,  whose  brigades,  like  those  of  Kemper  and 
Pickett,  are  cut  to  shreds,  while  some  battalions  are 
reduced  to  the  front  of  a  platoon.  Yet  these  are  the  fel 
lows,  less  than  forty  thousand  all  told,  who,  backed  up 
to  the  great  river,  with  all  their  trains  and  all  their 
wounded  to  care  for,  still  confidently  look  to  Lee  and 
serenely  face  McClellan,  whose  force  in  men  and  guns 
is  more  than  twice  their  own. 

With  what  intensity  of  interest  and  anxiety  do  we  in 
Washington  await  the  result  of  that  inevitable  grapple 
beyond  the  Blue  Ridge.  Hopeful  tales  we  hear  of  cap 
tured  despatches  that  betray  the  plans  of  those  confed 
erates  of  Confederates — the  army  and  corps  com 
manders  of  the  South — yet  it  has  cost  McClellan  heavily 
to  force  a  way  through  the  Gaps.  What  may  it  not  cost 
to  assault  in  a  chosen  position  so  plucky  an  adversary! 
The  old  division,  now  first  in  the  new  First  Corps,  goes 


244  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

in  under  its  third  commander  in  three  weeks,  for  Fred's 
old  general  has  been  sent  home  on  sick  leave.  Hatch, 
his  gallant  second,  is  severely  wounded  at  South  Moun 
tain.  Doubleday  it  is  who  now  takes  the  lead  and, 
crossing  the  Antietam  on  the  afternoon  of  the  sixteenth, 
bears  down  from  the  extreme  flank  upon  the  silent, 
waiting  foe. 

First  in  column  as  it  circles  the  front,  the  old  division 
moves  in  to  the  morning  attack  at  the  right  of  Hooker's 
embattled  line,  and  right  of  the  line  of  the  old  division 
is  the  doubled  rank  of  the  old — the  Iron — brigade.  It 
is  the  dawn  of  a  dreadful  day. 

In  their  front  as  they  issue  from  the  sheltering  wood, 
not  a  mile  away  and  to  the  west  of  the  broad  turnpike, 
gleam,  at  the  crest  of  a  gradual  rise,  the  white  walls  of 
the  old  Dunker  church,  outlined  against  the  foliage  of 
a  thick  grove — the  West  Wood.  Over  that  gentle  slope 
extends  a  great  broad  cornfield,  its  ungarnered  crop  ripe 
and  yellowing,  the  brown  tassels  stirring  in  the  morning 
breeze  that  drifts  downward  from  the  lofty  heights  across 
the  Maryland  stream.  Another  cornfield,  not  so  large, 
stretches  westward  from  the  highway  opposite  the 
northward  end  of  the  first.  A  farm-house  in  a  shaded 
enclosure  stands  on  the  east  of  the  pike  between  the 
advancing  blue  lines  and  the  yellow  green  of  the  waving 
corn.  A  barn  and  out-buildings  face  it  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  pike.  Other  groves  bound  the  cornfields 
toward  the  Potomac,  backed  by  a  ridge  where  Stuart's 
restless  horsemen  and  Pelham's  ready  guns  are  lurking, 


KILLED   IN  FRONT  OF  THE   GUNS  245 

hidden  from  our  view.  So  are  the  crouching  guardians 
of  the  groves  and  fields  to  the  south.  Again  is  the  great 
organizer  shoving  his  infantry  in  to  the  attack  of  an 
army  in  position,  over  ground  unsearched  by  cavalry, 
though  cavalry  are  with  him  in  abundance,  eager  to  be 
of  service,  but  he  knows  not  how  to  use  them.  East  of 
the  big  cornfield,  to  their  left  front  as  they  march,  is 
still  another  grove,  the  East  Wood,  and  in  long,  thin 
line,  at  right  angles  to  the  pike,  stretching  through  the 
woods,  through  the  cornfield,  silently  awaiting  their 
coming  foe,  are  aligned  the  very  men  they  fought  so 
savagely  at  sunset  of  that  August  evening  barely  three 
weeks  back.  Then  as  the  sun  went  down  behind  the 
Bull  Run  range,  Badger  and  Hoosier  were  clinched  in 
deadly  grapple  with  Virginia,  Louisiana  and  Georgia. 
Now,  ere  the  sun  comes  peeping  over  the  Blue  Ridge 
to  the  east,  Badger  and  Hoosier,  side  by  side,  are  strid 
ing  straight  up  to  the  waiting  lines  of  the  same  old 
commands.  Ewell  and  Taliaferro,  as  we  have  seen, 
were  shot  out  of  saddle  in  the  previous  clinch.  Lawton 
and  Jones  now  lead  in  their  stead,  destined  further  to 
follow  their  lead  ere  half  the  day  is  done.  Strange  fatal 
ity  it  is,  indeed,  that  of  all  the  fifty  brigades  of  McClel- 
lan's  fighting  force  within  range  at  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
it  is  the  Iron  Brigade,  the  one  exclusively  Western  brig 
ade,  that  is  to  again  encounter  the  flower  of  the  South 
ern  array,  the  "  Stonewall  "  and  its  comrade  brigades  of 
Jackson's  heroic  corps. 
And,  just  as  before,  not  a  man  of  the  hostile  line  is 


24G  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

seen  when  the  guns  begin  the  battle.  Off  to  the  left 
front,  near  the  East  Wood,  a  Southern  battery  spies 
the  blue  battalions  issuing  from  the  skirt  of  the  north 
ward  wood  nearly  a  mile  away,  dressed  on  their  waving 
colors,  the  skirmishers  trotting  well  out  to  the  front. 
Then  loud  bellow  the  guns  and  shriek  the  shells  as  line 
upon  line,  brigade  on  brigade,  Hooker  sends  his  new 
command,  the  new-born  First  Corps,  in  to  its  bloody 
baptism.  The  Confederate  flank  is  covered  by  Stuart 
and  his  dashing  horse  batteries,  and  there  is  abundant 
room  and  more  than  abundant  need  for  similar  troops 
between  Doubleday's  right  and  the  river,  but  not  so 
much  as  a  squadron  rides  where  it  may  be  of  such  in 
finite  service.  McClellan  holds  his  horses  east  of  the 
dividing  stream,  for  again,  as  on  the  Peninsula,  are  his 
forces  thus  bestowed.  Watching  the  scene  from  the 
Pry  house,  beyond  the  Antietam,  with  his  telescope 
trained  on  the  Miller  fields  a  good  two  miles  away, 
Little  Mac  observes  from  an  easy  chair.  'Tis  the  army 
that  goes  in  a-straddle. 

Full  five  hundred  yards,  almost  due  south,  march  the 
doubled  lines  in  blue,  Meade's  little  division  of  Pennsyl- 
vanians  alongside  and  east  of  Doubleday's.  Hatch's 
old  brigade  is  on  the  left  of  Gibbon's,  Patrick  in  its  rear, 
in  support,  and  for  a  time  the  Sixth  Wisconsin,  at  the 
post  of  honor,  has  the  Hagerstown  road  on  its  right  for 
a  guide.  But  now  comes  a  thin  patch  of  woods  and  a 
turn — only  a  slight  turn — in  the  line  of  the  pike,  and 
here,  little  by  little,  through  pressure  from  the  centre,  the 


KILLED   IN  FRONT   OF  THE   GUNS  347 

first  company  begins  to  edge  out  over  the  highway,  the 
second  follows,  and  by  the  time  they  are  bursting  through 
the  barnyards  and  farm  enclosures  at  Miller's,  and  the 
shells  have  changed  to  shrapnel  and  men  are  dropping 
fast,  the  entire  right  wing  of  the  Sixth  is  across  the  pike 
and  wading  through  that  westward  field,  tall,  many  of 
them,  as  the  waving  corn,  and  despite  the  vicious  spat 
ter  of  lead,  just  about  as  unbending.  Still  southward 
goes  the  long  line  of  the  corps,  four  brigades  in  the 
foremost  rank,  four  coming  up  in  their  rear,  and  still 
those  bellowing  batteries  alone  appear  in  front.  No 
infantry  is  visible.  Then  up  the  pike,  just  as  at  Gaines 
ville,  comes  galloping  Battery  "  B,"  and  into  the  farm 
yard  it  turns,  and  there,  whirling  the  guns  in  line  to 
the  south,  delivers  its  resonant  answer.  Telling  talkers 
are  these  boomers  of  Campbell's  in  this  fiery  debate. 
The  infantry  lines  are  well  forward  now,  the  left  just 
breasting  the  cornfield,  so  that  the  "  spherical  case " 
goes  whistling  over  their  heads  and  bursting  among 
the  Southern  guns.  The  Sixth  is  just  striding  out  from 
the  cornfield  and  into  the  woods  to  the  west  of  the  road 
when,  sudden  as  a  thunderbolt,  there  bursts  on  the  ear 
the  crash  of  an  infantry  volley,  and  from  front  and  right 
flank,  so  close  that  the  smoke  jets  forth  in  their  faces, 
a  low-aimed  lead  storm  shrieks  through  their  ranks  and 
down  goes  half  the  wing, — many,  too  many,  biting  the 
dust.  Then  blaze  the  whole  West  Wood  and  the  hedge 
row  south  of  the  cornfield,  and  all  from  an  unseen  foe! 
Flesh  and  blood  cannot  stand  such  a  gale  in  the  open. 


248  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

Ducking,  bending  double,  rolling,  crawling,  but  turning 
to  fire  fast  as  they  can  reload,  the  survivors  swing  back 
to  the  highway,  rallying  instantly  at  the  edge  of  the  field, 
and  there,  flat  on  their  faces,  they,  too,  take  vigorous 
hand  in  the  fight,  while  Patrick's  men,  close  at  their 
heels,  rush  in  to  prolong  the  line  to  the  right  and  fill 
the  gaps  at  the  front.  Five  minutes — and  both  woods, 
east  and  west,  and  the  intervening  cornfields  are  in 
dense  clouds  of  sulphur  smoke,  for  Ricketts,  too,  has 
come  up  with  his  division  on  the  left  of  the  corps,  and 
a  battle  of  giants  is  on. 

But  vain  are  the  efforts  of  Hooker's  brave  men. 
Three  fine,  disciplined  divisions  he  has  led  to  the  field, 
thinking  to  turn  an  exposed  left  flank,  while  Mansfield, 
with  his  new  Twelfth  Corps,  supports  the  attack,  and  the 
main  army,  advancing  in  force  from  the  line  of  the  An- 
tietam,  covers  and  holds  the  long  Confederate  front 
extending  far  to  the  south  of  the  town.  Just  whom  to 
blame  nobody  will  say,  but,  not  until  Hooker's  right 
division  is  swept  by  lapping  fires  and  flattened  out  by 
the  fierce  storm  of  lead;  not  until  Meade  and  Ricketts, 
farther  to  the  east,  have  charged  again  in  line  with 
Doubleday's  left;  not  until  the  cornfields  are  slashed 
as  though  with  giant  sickle  and  leveled  to  earth,  and 
strewn  thick  with  the  dead  and  the  dying;  not  until 
Doubleday,  not  whipped,  but  brought  to  a  stand,  is 
fairly  battling  for  breath,  do  the  brigades  of  Mansfield 
appear  at  the  east,  coming  late  into  action,  and  even 
then  by  no  means  prepared.  Closed  in  mass  and  with 


KILLED   IN  FRONT   OF  THE   GUNS  949 

crowded  intervals,  they  stride  from  the  woods  and  strive 
to  deploy.  But  many  battalions  are  new  and  unskilled, 
and  before  the  brigade  can  be  brought  into  line,  gallant, 
gray-headed  old  Mansfield  drops  dying  from  his  horse. 
Williams  succeeds  to  command ;  but  before  Hooker  half 
finishes  giving  his  orders,  he,  too,  commanding  all 
troops  at  that  moment  west  of  the  stream,  is  stricken 
and  borne  from  the  field,  stripping  it  thereby  of  both 
corps  commanders,  and  leaving  the  right  to  the  care  of 
men  ignorant  of  McClellan's  plans,  and  confronted  by 
the  best  fighters  in  the  Southern  host. 

Oh  the  pity  of  it !  Half  the  horses  of  Battery  "  B  "  are 
stretched  on  the  field  in  front  of  the  farm-house.  Full 
a  third  of  the  gunners  are  down.  Campbell,  the  captain, 
is  shot  from  his  saddle.  Half  the  right  wing  of  the  Sixth 
is  gone.  Half  the  commanders  are  now  killed  or 
wounded.  Not  a  lieutenant-colonel  is  left  in  the  Iron 
Brigade.  Allen,  Bragg  and  Bachman  are  borne  from 
the  line,  the  last  named  to  his  soldier  grave.  The  lone 
effort  is  fruitless,  save  for  its  glories  and  the  fierce  pun 
ishment  given  the  foemen  in  front.  There,  indeed,  is 
destruction  equal  to  this  in  the  cornfields  and  along  the 
Hagerstown  pike.  No  wonder  Old  Jack  bows  his  head 
in  grief  and  supplication.  Again  he  has  lost  both  di 
vision  commanders,  Lawton  and  Jones  being  wounded. 
Again,  as  at  Gainesville,  has  Starke  taken  command 
when  his  chief  is  borne  to  the  rear,  and  now  dies  at  his 
post  in  less  than  the  hour,  shot  through  by  three  bullets. 
So,  too,  falls  Douglas,  heading  Lawton's  brigade,  and 


250  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

with  almost  breaking  heart  Jackson  sends  word  to  his 
beloved  general  that  half  the  commands  of  Lawton  and 
Hays  and  fully  one-third  of  Trimble's  are  killed  or 
wounded,  as  are  all  regimental  commanders  but  two. 
Thank  God,  'tis  their  last  fight  with  the  Iron  Brigade! 

With  the  rest  of  the  battle  we  have  nothing  to  do. 
Before  breakfast  is  over  at  the  Pry  house,  where  sit 
Little  Mac  and  the  big  staff,  Hooker's  fight  on  the  right 
flank  is  over  and  done.  Then  another  is  started  in  front 
of  the  East  Wood,  and  later  others  occur  along  the  line 
to  the  south,  and  wherever  a  corps  is  sent  in  to  attack, 
Lee  scrapes  up  a  corps  to  meet  and  repell  it.  Con 
certed  action  might  have  given  the  Union  a  needed,  a 
much  needed,  victory,  but  concert  there  is  none.  One 
splendid  and  disciplined  corps  has  been  held  in  reserve, 
and  when  toward  the  last  the  serene  young  general-in- 
chief,  never  excited  or  hurried,  never  able  to  see  flaw 
in  his  own  dispositions,  seemed  yielding  to  pressure  and 
about  sending  them  in,  he  hearkens  to  the  words  of  their 
brilliant  commander,  so  said  veteran  regulars  at  the 
time:  "  Remember,  General,  I  command  the  last  reserve 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac." 

And  so  night  settles  down  and  Lee's  little  army, 
superbly  led,  has  beaten  back  in  succession  the  scat 
tered  attacks  of  McClellan's  overwhelming  force,  sent 
in,  so  many  at  a  time,  to  the  end  that,  in  spite  of  hard 
fighting  and  devoted  courage  on  part  of  officers  and 
men,  the  day  is  a  failure  and  the  field  something  fearful 
to  see.  All  through  the  hours  of  darkness  the  surgeons 


KILLED   IN   FRONT   OF  THE  GUNS  251 

are  at  work  with  the  thousands  of  wounded.  All 
through  the  following  day  Lee  waits  for  renewal  of  the 
battle,  but  McClellan  has  had  enough.  With  the  com 
ing  of  another  night,  therefore,  gathering  up  his 
wounded  and  prisoners,  sending  his  trains  ahead,  the 
great  Virginian  silently  moves  his  columns  down  to  the 
fords  of  the  Potomac,  and  by  dawn  of  the  nineteenth 
all  are  safely  across.  Lee  has  slipped  away. 

No  wonder  the  President's  sombre  eyes  are  clouded 
as  he  sadly  studies  the  dread  list  of  the  slain.  No  won 
der  he  scans  the  bearded  faces  of  the  generals  sum 
moned  to  meet  him  the  day  he  closes  his  memorable 
visit  to  the  field.  Is  there  none  among  them  who  can 
take  this  splendid  army  and  do  something  with  it  against 
these  skilled  fencers  of  the  South?  Men  in  overwhelm 
ing  number,  guns  the  best  that  money  can  buy,  supplies 
in  abundance  of  every  kind,  all  these  have  been  lavished 
on  our  leaders  and  to  what  end!  No  wonder,  as  he 
drives  away,  his  face  lined  with  care. 

There  is  significance  in  the  greeting  accorded  the  little 
soldier  still  in  supreme  command  when  he  rides  his  lines 
a  day  after  the  battle.  The  corps  of  Porter,  held 
throughout  the  combat  in  safe  reserve,  swings  its  caps 
and  cheers  with  great  enthusiasm.  The  corps  of  Sumner 
shouts  with  modified  rejoicing.  The  men  of  Mansfield 
rise  and  salute  in  silence.  The  thinned  battalions  of  the 
First  Corps  make  no  sign  whatever. 

Witnessing  this  sight,  Fred  Benton  contrasts  it  with 
another  which  it  was  his  privilege  to  note  the  previous 


252  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

day.  Still  serving  at  division  headquarters,  acting  as 
inspector-general,  he  and  other  officers  had  been  sent 
under  flag  of  truce  within  the  picket  lines  of  the  South 
ern  army,  to  seek  the  wounded  and  to  render  aid.  All 
about  the  barn  and  buildings  of  the  Miller  farm,  where 
the  brigade  had  rallied  and  hung  so  long,  lay  scores  of 
stricken  men  for  whom  the  surgeons  were  doing  their 
best,  but  so  very  many  seemed  past  help.  Along  the 
pike  the  Georgians,  too,  lay  thick,  and  gray  uniformed 
officers  moved  to  and  fro  among  them,  or  conversed  in 
low  tones,  curiously  scanning  from  time  to  time  the  two 
or  three  staff  officials  in  blue  who  followed  the  surgeons, 
pencil  and  notebook  in  hand.  Suddenly  the  talking 
ceased,  for,  issuing  from  a  narrow  roadway  that  trended 
westward  from  the  pike,  there  came  a  tall,  commanding- 
looking  officer,  gray-bearded,  yet  alert,  a  soldier  who 
acknowledged  with  grave  courtesy  the  salutes  that 
greeted  him  on  every  hand.  Men  sprang  to  their  feet 
and  gazed  at  him  almost  in  adoration.  Even  the 
wounded  strove  to  rise.  Some  few  hailed  him  with 
feeble,  childish  voices.  As  for  Benton  and  his  two  as 
sociates,  they  needed  not  the  little  group  of  staff  and 
orderlies  to  confirm  them  in  their  belief.  They  knew 
him  at  a  glance — the  great  Virginia  leader — and  Benton, 
instantly,  the  others  following,  stepped  forward  and 
stood  at  salute.  Lee  saw  it,  and  turning  so  as  to  half 
face  the  Northeners,  with  punctilious  courtesy  lifted  his 
hat,  then  quickly  reined  back  as  a  dust-covered,  battle- 
stained  battery  came  jingling  out  from  the  lane  and, 


KILLED   IN   FRONT   OP  THE   GUNS  253 

turning  into  the  highway,  pulled  wearily  on  to  where 
the  spires  of  the  Maryland  town  pierced  the  blue  be 
yond  the  southward  wood.  Jaded  and  worn  were  the 
horses,  black  and  powder-stained  the  men,  and  of  a  sud 
den  one  of  these,  a  slender  stripling,  jogging  along  be 
side  his  gun,  caught  sight  of  the  group  of  horsemen, 
darted  from  his  place  to  where  the  commanding  general, 
the  picture  of  the  soldier  and  the  gentleman,  sat  in  sad 
dle  at  the  roadside,  and  there,  with  boyish  laugh,  held 
forth  a  grimy  hand.  "  It's  Bob,"  he  cried.  "  Don't  you 
know  me,  father?"  And  Lee,  the  cavalier,  bent  low 
and  with  love  and  tenderness,  with  who  can  say  what 
pride  and  rejoicing,  clasped  the  hand  of  the  private  sol 
dier  in  the  Rockbridge  Artillery,  his  gallant  younger 
son.  In  what  other  army  would  one  see  the  like  of 
that! 

Then  the  general  rode  on  toward  the  Dunker  church, 
where  still  the  men  of  Jackson  lay  in  readiness,  and  then 
uprose  rank  after  rank  with  mighty  shout  that  marked 
his  onward  going  adown  the  weary  yet  intenselj  loyal 
line  until  lost  within  the  distant  walls  of  Sharpsburg. 
Despite  the  dire  carnage  of  the  day  of  battle,  there  beat 
no  soldier  heart  in  all  the  Southern  host  that  was  not 
true  to  Lee. 

Presently,  as  the  time  accorded  for  their  sad  mission 
had  well  nigh  expired,  Benton  was  aware  of  a  young 
officer,  in  the  uniform  of  the  horse  artillery,  who  had 
been  chatting  with  comrades  across  the  way,  and  now, 


254  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

dismounting,  stepped  briskly  toward  him,  lifting  a  jaunty 
forage  cap. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,"  he  courteously  spoke.  "  Is  this 
Captain  Benton  who — visited  Charlottesville  not  long 
ago?  My  name  is  Pelham,"  and  there  was  just  the 
suspicion  of  a  smile  in  the  keen  young  face. 

"  Captive,  but  not  captain,"  answered  Benton,  with 
responsive  grin,  though  the  mention  of  the  name  was 
something  that  put  him  on  his  guard.  What  was  it 
young  Winston  had  said  about  Maud  Pelham  and  Rosa 
lie?  This  must  be  the  boy  captain  of  the  name,  of  whom 
he  had  heard  so  much — Jeb  Stuart's  crack  light  gunner. 

"  Yes,  I  have  cousins  there,"  continued  Pelham,  as 
though  reading  Benton's  thoughts.  "  But  it  is  long 
since  we  met.  You  are  the  man,  as  I  happen  to  know, 
who  showed  so  much  courtesy  to  Lieutenant  Winston, 
as  well  as  to  Jack  Chilton.  Now  you  can  do  me  a  favor 
if  you  should  see  Dr.  Chilton,  and  that  is,  tell  him  for 
me  that  the  men  at  the  front  utterly  disapprove  the 
doings  of  that  self-styled  citizens'  committee  at  the  rear. 
Those  people,"  he  went  on  disdainfully,  "  are  too  old  or 
too  feeble-minded  to  fight  like  men.  They  stab  like 
women." 

"  It  will  comfort  them — or  rather  the  doctor — to  get 
such  a  message  from  you,  Captain  Pelham,"  answered 
Benton,  almost  eagerly,  "  and  I  shall  see  that  he  does 
get  it.  I  shall  write  at  once.  You  can  do  me  a  favor, 
too,  if  you  will.  An  old  school  friend  of  mine,  Paul 


KILLED   IN   FRONT   OP   THE   GUNS  255 

Ladue,  is  a  staff  officer  in  Ewell's  division.  Give  him 
a  greeting  for  me,  will  you?  " 

"  Ladue,"  said  Pelham,  his  fine  features  clouding  in 
stantly.  "  I  fear — I  heard —  Oh,  Captain  Lamar,"  he 
called,  "  what  Lieutenant  Ladue  was  it  brought  that 
note  Wednesday  morning  to  General  Stuart?  " 

"  Paul  Ladue,  Eleventh  Alabama,"  was  the  prompt 
answer.  "  Killed  right  here  in  front  of  the  battery  not 
half  an  hour  afterwards." 


CHAPTER    XX 

A   CRY    FROM   THE  AMBULANCE 

The  autumn,  the  wasted  autumn  has  gone,  "  the  win 
ter  of  our  discontent  "  indeed  has  come.  For  weeks 
the  army  hangs  there  inert  and  chafing  along  the  Poto 
mac,  while  Lee  and  his  bronzed  veterans  saunter  away 
through  the  Shenandoah,  "  feeding  on  the  fat  of  the 
land."  Marveling  at  the  inaction  of  McClellan,  Stuart 
rides  back  with  some  eighteen  hundred  horse  and  two 
light  guns  and,  of  course,  Pelham ;  and,  just  as  he  did  a 
few  months  earlier  down  on  the  Peninsula,  jogs  con 
temptuously  clear  round  the  bewildered  and  indignant 
divisions,  laughing  at  the  effort  of  Pleasanton  to  catch 
or  others  to  head  him.  McClellan  says  his  cavalry  is 
too  wearied  and  broken  down  to  accomplish  anything, 
and  the  President  mildly  asks  what  it  has  been  doing 
to  so  fatigue  it.  Another  correspondence  of  complaints 
begins,  and  finally  ends  at  Warrenton,  when  the  order 
comes  early  in  November  that  severs  once  and  for  all 
McClellan's  connection  with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 
He  had  done  much  to  make  it,  God  knows.  He  was 
great  as  an  organizer  and  instructor.  He  had  the  faith 
and  regard  of  most  of  the  officers  and  the  love  of  all  the 


A    CRY    FROM    THE    AMBULANCE  257 

men.  It  was  in  battle  and  campaign  that  he  failed  them, 
not  they  him,  for  mortal  man  had  never  deeper  devotion 
than  was  accorded  Little  Mac  until  he  took  the  field. 
Even  now,  this  sad  November  day,  there  are  scores  of 
officers  and  soldiers  whose  faces  are  furrowed  with  tears 
as  they  see  him  ride  away.  There  are  many  commands 
that  would  gladly  recall  him.  There  are  regiments  that 
could  not  be  made  to  cheer  him  after  Antietam  that 
mourn  his  going  now,  even  in  the  hard-used  First  Corps. 
There  are  men  right  here  in  the  Iron  Brigade  who  de 
plore  the  ordered  separation,  but  there  is  a  higher  power, 
a  higher  duty  still,  and,  no  matter  what  may  be  the 
sorrow  of  this  parting,  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  would 
be  faithless  to  McClellan  and  his  teachings  were  it  not 
loyal  to  the  commander-in-chief,  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  Even  in  the  bitterness  of  heart  that  must 
accompany  submission  to  his  soldier  fate,  McClellan 
himself  strikes  the  keynote  of  that  undimmed,  unshaken 
spirit  of  loyalty  above  all  things  when  he  bids  his  old 
comrades  farewell,  and,  in  so  doing,  bids  them  be  as  true 
to  his  successor  as  they  had  ever  been  to  him. 

Changes,  too,  have  occurred  in  many  a  minor  grade. 
The  Fifth  Corps  mourns  the  loss  of  the  brilliant,  gifted, 
handsome  soldier  whose  head  is  demanded  as  one  result 
of  the  woful  mismanoeuvers  about  Manassas.  Old 
names  appear  at  the  head  of  grand  divisions,  as  Burn- 
side  calls  the  doubled  corps.  New  names,  compara 
tively,  appear  at  corps  headquarters.  New  brigadiers, 
a  full  crop,  ride  up  from  the  roster  of  field  officers,  and 
17 


258  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

not  so  many  now  hail  from  the  ranks  of  influential  but 
unskilled  civilians.  New  regiments  have  been  grafted 
on  old  brigades;  new  blood  injected  into  old  and  tough 
ening  veins.  It  is  high  time  our  friends  of  the  Iron 
name  had  reinforcement,  for,  despite  Wisconsin's  praise 
worthy  course  of  recruiting  veteran  commands  as  well 
as  raising  new  ones,  their  ranks  are  wofully  thin;  so, 
as  neither  Badger  nor  Hoosier  regiment  comes  to 
swell  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  there  is  assigned  to 
the  old  brigade,  thereby  assuring  its  distinctive  Western 
character,  a  brand  new,  ambitious  and,  as  it  turns  out, 
most  pugnacious  and  rightful  array  of  Wolverines,  "  all 
teeth  and  toe-nails,"  say  the  Badgers,  who  take  them 
under  advisement,  and  so  the  much-vaunted  menagerie 
is  complete  again. 

Changes,  too,  have  come  to  the  staff,  and,  to  Benton's 
blushing  delight,  he  is  called  upon  at  Catlett's  to  "  wet  " 
a  new  commission,  recommended  by  his  old  general 
and  heartily  approved  by  the  new.  It  is  Captain  Ben- 
ton,  additional  aide-de-camp  now,  and  he  rides  for  the 
time  being  with  a  division  commander  famous  for  stay 
ing  qualities,  if  not  for  urbanity,  a  man  who  is  of  the 
fight-to-a-finish  mold,  and  would  hang  every  rebel  from 
Maine  to  Mexico.  He  is  a  fighter  who  knows  neither 
fear  nor  forgiveness  and  who  takes  it  amiss  that  one 
of  his  staff  should  mourn  much  over  the  fate  of  a  rebel 
in  arms,  especially  one  who  serves  that  arch-rebel  Ewell 
and  has  no  earthly  excuse  for  fighting  at  all.  We  have 
had  few  as  yet  of  these  vehement  patriots  in  high  places. 


A   CRY   FROM   THE   AMBULANCE  359 

We  have  had  far  too  many,  storms  Stanton  in  Washing 
ton,  of  those  who  would  handle  treason  with  gloves, 
furnish  guards  for  the  homesteads  of  hard-fighting 
chiefs  on  the  Southern  side,  hold  commerce  and  com 
munion  through  flags  of  truce  with  former  comrades 
across  the  lines.  "We  must  stop  it,  by  heaven!  "  says 
Stanton,  splitting  a  table  top  with  one  blow  of  his  fist. 
"  We  must  drumhead  and  shoot  'em,"  says  Fred's  new 
commander,  "  and  I'll  hang  the  first  man  of  my  staff 
that  I  catch."  It  must  be  owned  that  the  general  fights 
hard  as  he  swears,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal,  and 
means  no  doubt  very  much  of  what  he  says.  He  has 
heard  much  of  Benton  as  a  gallant  staff  officer,  eager, 
reliable,  tireless,  a  fellow  that  never  wears  out.  The  one 
thing  against  him  is  his  training  under  "  that  soft-sided 
senior  of  his"  (Fred's  original  chief),  and  his  own  known 
weakness  for  certain  folks  in  rebellion.  "  He  ought  to 
be  thankful  Ladue's  dead  and  buried,"  says  this  new 
leader  of  an  old  division.  "  And  as  for  his  Charlottes- 
ville  friends,  he'd  better  steer  clear  of  'em  all  if  he 
doesn't  court  trouble  with  me" 

"  The  winter  of  our  discontent  "  indeed!  With  gloomy 
heart  and  sad  anticipation  Benton  rides  away  through 
the  leafless  woods  to  the  old  familiar  scenes  about  Fred- 
ericksburg.  Word  from  Washington  has  brought  him 
little  comfort.  Rumor  of  his  commander's  sayings  has 
filled  him  with  foreboding.  Dr.  Chilton,  to  whom  he 
had  written  on  almost  any  provocation  and  who  had 
gratefully  and  promptly  answered  his  Sharpsburg  mis- 


260  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

sive,  giving  young  Pelham's  message,  now  wrote  not 
at  all.  "  He  seems  sad  and  brooding,"  said  Jack,  in  the 
one  letter  that  young  gentleman  had  managed  to  send 
through  since  his  incarceration.  Jack  was  well  enough 
to  resume  duty  and  most  eager  for  exchange,  but  nego 
tiations  hung  fire  unaccountably,  so  said  he,  and  Benton 
thought  he  knew  the  reason  why.  Lounsberry  had  been 
back  again  in  Richmond  over  six  weeks  now,  exchanged 
and  restored  to  his  old  and  influential  post  in  the  War 
Department.  Lounsberry  could  be  counted  on  to  lose 
no  chance  to  injure  the  Chiltons,  father  or  son,  and  so 
long  as  it  was  possible  he  would  block  all  plan  to  ex 
change  Jack  Chilton,  thereby  lending  color  to  the  stories 
spread  abroad  in  Virginia  that  poor  Jack  rather  tried 
to  be  caught  and  to  stay  caught,  such  hard  fighting  as 
his  fellow  Virginians  had  to  do  being  little  to  his  taste. 
It  would  have  burned  his  heart  out  with  fury  had  he 
known  it,  but  few  of  us  begin  to  realize  the  half  of 
what  is  whispered  to  our  detriment,  else  there  would  be 
deportation  of  sensitive  souls  or  deserved  destruction 
in  the  army  of  detractors.  Jack  was  nearly  mad  with 
misery  when  told  of  Stuart's  impudent  dash  at  Cham- 
bersburg  and  the  second  circling  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  He  was  then  just  beginning  to  stump  around 
quite  comfortably.  Elinor  and  the  Squire  had  returned 
to  the  West,  the  former  with  red-rimmed  eyes  and 
pallid  cheeks.  No  one  knew  how  she  had  sorrowed 
over  the  sad  news  about  Ladue.  It  was  that,  though, 
that  seemed  to  break  the  ice  of  Rosalie's  reserve,  for 


A   CRY   FROM    THE    AMBULANCE  261 

now,  for  the  first  time,  the  Virginia  girl  read  the  secret 
of  her  Wisconsin  would-be  friend,  and  melted  to  her 
instantly.  It  was  that,  though  they  rarely  spoke  his 
name,  that  led  to  the  letters  now  passing  frequently  be 
tween  them.  It  was  through  that  correspondence  the 
sisterhood  began  that,  despite  trial  and  trouble,  proved 
eventually  so  sure  an  alliance  in  time  of  need. 

But  though  Elinor  wrote  in  many  a  page  of  her 
brother,  and  in  only  a  few  referred  to  Paul — and  then 
only  as  "  he  "  or  "  him  " — Rosalie  would  write  only  of 
the  latter.  Ordinarily  this  would  have  led  to  resent 
ment  and  a  breach.  Now  it  did  not,  for  what  Rosalie 
had  to  say  was  stirring  new  hope  into  the  sombre  cur 
rent  of  the  Western  girl's  monotonous  life.  Rosalie 
had  amazed  and  rejoiced  her,  about  the  end  of  October, 
by  the  assurance  that  she  believed  Captain  Lamar  to  be 
totally  mistaken.  It  was  true,  she  admitted,  that  Paul 
Ladue  had  not  been  seen  with  Ewell's  division,  but 
neither  had  Ewell,  as  yet — for  the  latter  had  not  become 
accustomed  to  a  cork  leg — yet  she  had  tidings  from 
"  friends  " — who,  she  would  not  say — that  Paul  Ladue 
was  still  alive  when  borne  from  the  awful  front  of  Gib 
bon's  guns,  then  belching  canister  in  double  rounds. 
"  More  dead  than  alive  he  looked,"  said  her  informant, 
but  while  she  had  no  tidings  of  his  present  whereabouts, 
neither  was  there  any  record  of  his  death. 

All  this  was  presently  sent  to  Fred  on  the  Rappahan- 
nock,  and  made  him  the  more  eager  to  communicate 
with  some  one  across  that  modern  Rubicon — some  one 


262  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

who  could  speak  advisedly.  But  though  there  were 
places  near  the  fords  up  stream  where  the  cavalry  ve 
dettes  sat  long  hours  in  saddle,  facing,  and  often  within 
hailing  distance  of  each  other,  the  orders  against  com 
munication  of  any  kind  had  become  exacting,  for  it  was 
evident  that  Burnside  was  marshaling  his  grand  divi 
sions  for  a  move. 

In  the  early  summer  time,  when  he  hated  to  leave  the 
front  and  longed  to  push  on  to  Richmond  or  Charlottes- 
ville,  Benton  had  been  summoned  to  Washington.  Now, 
when  he  longed  to  go  to  Washington,  there  was  pros 
pect  of  a  midwinter  dash  across  the  Rappahannock. 
News  of  the  Chiltons  was  sorely  disquieting.  Rosalie 
would  not  write.  Jack,  in  prison  camp,  could  not,  ex 
cept  to  kindred,  and  the  doctor  evidently  shrank  from 
writing.  It  was  a  winter  of  courts-martial  at  the  Capi 
tal,  and  several  such  tribunals  were  in  session,  trying 
officers  of  various  grades.  Many  new  regiments  had 
come  and  were  held  about  the  city  until  suitably  drilled 
and  disciplined.  As  a  consequence  the  avenues  again 
were  alive  with  uniforms,  the  hotels  crowded,  and  many 
thrifty  households  were  "  coining  "  money  taking  board 
ers.  Mention  has  been  made  of  Dr.  Chilton's  sister, 
with  whom  they  were  again  dwelling  after  their  return 
from  the  summer  at  the  seashore.  Being  only  moder 
ately  well-to-do,  and  besieged  with  applications,  she 
had  yielded  to  pressure  and  let  two  of  her  rooms  to 
officers  sojourning  in  the  city.  Then  one  of  these,  or 
dered  West,  begged  leave  to  present  a  successor,  a 


A    CRY    FROM    THE    AMBULANCE  263 

major  of  a  new  regiment,  who,  being  a  "  smart  "  lawyer, 
had  been  assigned  to  duty  as  judge  advocate  of  a 
court  for  the  trial  of  officers  of  rank  in  the  volunteers. 
When  the  Squire  wrote  that  McKinnon  had  been  ap 
pointed  major  of  a  newly  raised  regiment  and  ordered 
with  it  to  Annapolis,  Fred  Benton  felt,  so  great  was  his 
antipathy,  a  vague  sensation  of  annoyance  and  chagrin. 

Three  weeks  later  when  Colonel  Goff,  of  the teenth, 

came  down  to  pay  the  Iron  Brigade  a  two-days'  visit,  the 
young  staff  officer  was  confounded  to  hear  that  Major 
McKinnon  had  just  found  domicile  under  the  same  roof 
that  shielded  Dr.  Chilton  and  the  lady  of  his  love.  It 
meant  mischief  and  Benton  knew  it.  Yet,  how  could 
McKinnon,  though  he  hated  his  former  partner,  the 
Squire,  hated  Elinor  for  her  scorn  of  him,  hated  La- 
due  for  the  preference  she  had  ever  shown  that  dreamy, 
sweet-natured  fellow,  and  presumably  hated  him,  Fred, 
— How  could  McKinnon  injure  him  or  those  he  loved? 

A  strange,  uncanny  freak  of  fortune,  he  tried  to 
teach  himself  to  regard  it,  and  nothing  more,  but 
stranger  still  were  the  freaks  not  yet  unfolded.  Fred 
Benton  was  by  no  means  the  first  nor  by  any  manner 
of  means  the  last  soldier  to  learn  that  the  presence  of 
a  secret  and  insidious  foe,  whether  in  camp  or  court,  in 
the  department  of  love  or  that  of  war,  works  untold  in 
jury  to  the  absent,  and  there  is  no  foe  more  bitter  than 
he  who  deals  the  original  wrong. 

One  bleak  December  morning  Benton  had  ridden 
with  his  general  down  the  river  bank  on  the  Stafford  side 


264  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

and  sat  watching  the  work  of  the  engineers.  The  pon 
toon  wagons  were  being  run  to  the  front,  and  many  an 
officer  and  man  looked  at  the  heavy,  ungainly  boats  and 
the  long  loads  of  balk  and  chess,  then  studied  the  dis 
tant  line  of  heights  across  the  stream,  saying  little  but 
thinking  much.  Whoever  sought  to  storm  that  crest 
had  a  precious  job  on  hand,  was  an  expurgation  of  the 
way  in  which  the  average  veteran  expressed  his  indi 
vidual  views.  Most  of  the  generals  and  the  staff  were 
comparatively  strange  to  our  Badger  regular.  Most  of 
them  were  Eastern  men,  and  not  quite  so  ready  as  he 
to  think  the  Western  brigade  the  peer  of  any  in  the 
army.  He  had  kept  his  views  to  himself,  as  a  rule,  but 
had  felt  bound  on  a  few  occasions  to  take  up  the  cudgels 
in  defense  of  his  comrades  when  he  found  them  the 
butts  for  little  shafts  of  malice  or  mischief  at  camp  fire 
or  mess  table.  The  social  atmosphere  was  far  from 
being  as  congenial  as  in  the  little  military  family  with 
which  he  entered  service.  He  sorely  missed  the  com 
panionship  and  guidance  of  Carver,  especially.  He 
sometimes  sat  in  silence,  marveling  much  at  the  con 
trast  between  the  tone  of  talk  in  the  old  staff  and  this 
in  the  new.  Under  his  own  general,  as  he  still  thought 
of  him,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  criticism  of  superiors 
or  condemnation  of  equals.  Here  in  his  new  environ 
ment  there  was  little  else.  The  new  division  com 
mander,  to  whose  service  he  was  assigned,  had  confi 
dence,  apparently,  in  the  skill  and  judgment  of  but  few 
men  above  him  in  grade,  and  of  none  that  gave  promise 


A   CRY   FROM   THE   AMBULANCE  265 

of  rising  to  equal  or  higher  rank.  He  fairly  suffered  at 
the  sound  of  a  word  of  praise  for  other  generals'  deeds 
or  methods,  and  Benton  had  enthusiastic  liking  for  as 
many  as  ten,  and  this  exceeded  his  commander's  list  by 
nine  exactly.  Brave,  bumptious  and  vain,  the  chief  was 
forever  sneering  or  swearing  at  his  fellows,  and  scowl 
ing  on  such  of  his  staff  as  presumed  to  even  favorably 
mention  another  leader.  It  had  caused  more  than  one 
unpleasantness  at  table.  It  had  intensified  the  general's 
faint  dislike  for  Benton ;  for,  unlike  the  rest  of  the  staff, 
the  young  fellow  would  not  sit  and  swallow  whole  the 
chieftain's  scathing  comments  on  other  chiefs  whom  he 
had  known,  and  thereby  Benton  showed  how  easy  it  was, 
with  greater  knowledge  to  have  less  wisdom.  In  fine, 
"  the  ^winter  of  our  discontent "  was  wearing  on  our 
young  staff  officer  in  a  dozen  different  ways,  and  one 
that  hurt  him  much  was  that,  when  he  most  longed  to 
spend  his  leisure  hours  with  old  friends  of  the  Iron  Bri 
gade,  he  could  not,  because  it  seemed  to  irritate  the 
chief.  Then  they  in  turn  seemed  to  feel  the  consequent 
defection,  and  twitted  him  with  neglect  of  them  because 
he'd  "  got  so  high."  Take  if  all  in  all,  thought  Benton, 
promotion  had  brought  him  anything  but  bliss  ;  and  now, 
when  he  would  have  given  worlds  to  get  to  Washington, 
not  for  worlds  could  he  ask  for  even  a  week  of  leave. 
Burnside  was  planning  an  assault  in  force.  Those  pon 
toon  trains,  at  half  a  dozen  hidden  points  along  the  Staf 
ford  shore,  unerringly  told  the  story. 

And  while  seated  in  saddle,  shivering  a  bit  in  the  raw 


266  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

wind  blowing  from  the  distant  Chesapeake,  and  wishing 
the  chief  would  quit  his  comments  on  the  orders  of  the 
corps  commander  and  trot  home  to  dinner,  Benton 
caught  sight  of  a  little  column  of  cavalry  riding  deject 
edly  in  from  the  far  left  flank.  Horses  looked  jaded, 
men  disgusted,  and  three  or  four  prisoners  in  their  wake 
looked  worst  of  all.  "  Where  d'ye  s'pose  those  dam- 
fools  have  come  from?"  asked  the  general,  cheerfully. 
"  Captain,"  he  cried,  hailing  the  officer  in  command, 
"  what  you  got  there?  " 

The  officer  touched  his  cap,  turned  out  of  column,  so 
as  not  to  halt  the  methodical  march,  rode  up  toward  the 
general  and  said:  "  Prisoners,  sir,  taken  by  one  of  our 
scouting  parties  a  few  miles  down,  and  sent  in  by  us, 
for  most  of  these  horses  with  me  have  to  be  shod." 

By  this  time  the  greater  part  of  the  troop,  in  their 
ugly  light  blue  overcoats,  had  plodded  by,  and  the  squad 
of  prisoners  came  footing  it  wearily  after.  Foremost 
of  these  a  tall,  thin-faced,  ungainly  specimen,  dressed  in 
one  of  those  self-same  cavalry  overcoats,  glanced  curi 
ously  at  the  general  from  under  his  broad-brimmed 
slouch  hat;  threw  a  look  over  the  blue-nosed,  watery- 
eyed  pair  of  orderlies  at  his  back,  and  then  on  Benton 
and  a  brother  aide,  sitting  a  few  yards  aside;  then  in 
stantly  a  flash  of  recognition  shot  over  his  face,  and  he 
called  aloud : 

"  There,  Captain.  There's  a  gentleman  who  will  vouch 
for  what  I  say.  Ask  Captain  Benton." 


A   CRY    FROM    THE   AMBULANCE  267 

It  was  our  friend  Jennings,  he  of  the  stone  house  and 
the  Warrenton  pike,  and  Jennings  would  not  be  denied. 
He  plunged  into  a  voluble  story  to  the  listening  chief, 
despite  the  efforts  of  an  Irish  trooper  to  prod  him  for 
ward. 

"  D'you  know  him?  "  asked  the  general,  shortly,  as  he 
turned  to  Benton.  "  He  says  you  do." 

"  I  saw  him  once  or  twice,  sir,"  was  the  guarded  an 
swer.  "  I  do  not  know  him  further  than  that  he  held 
General  McDowell's  pass  and  went  in  and  out  of  our 
lines  at  will  last  summer." 

"And  I'm  just  as  loyal  as  I  was  then,"  protested 
Jennings,  "  only  they  caught  me  down  here  trying  to 
help  some  folks  of  mine  that  were  sick  and  nigh  starv- 
ing " 

But  the  general  shut  him  off  impatiently.  He  was 
giving  ear  to  the  words  of  the  captain,  who  had  ridden 
closer. 

"  Colonel  Hammond  ordered  his  arrest,  sir,  because 
of  papers  in  his  possession,  showing  he  was  mixed  up 
in  the  aiding  of  Confederates — officers — across  the 
Potomac.  They  got  one  of  'em  too  weak  to  ride.  He's 
in  that  ambulance  yonder,"  and  the  dragoon  pointed  to 
the  yellow-painted  vehicle  coming  bouncing  among  the 
ruts  and  ridges  of  the  frozen  roadway.  A  faint  moan 
issued  from  beneath  the  canvas  cover  as  the  driver 
reined  up,  and  Benton,  moved  by  compassion,  urged  his 
horse  past  the  silent,  passive  column  and  peered  in 


268  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

through  the  opening  at  the  back.  The  next  instant  he 
was  out  of  saddle,  and  the  rear  spring  bent  under  his 
weight  as  he  leaped  upon  the  steps.  Then  they  heard 
his  voice  in  tones  of  mingled  grief,  joy  and  amaze: 
"Paul!  Paul!  Dear  old  boy,  don't  you  know  me?" 


CHAPTER   XXI 

BEARDING   THE   LION   IN   HIS   DEN 

Over  the  useless  slaughter  of  the  field  of  Fredericks- 
burg  it  were  best  to  draw  the  veil.  Far  down  at  the  left 
flank  the  old  brigade  groped  its  way  through  dripping 
fog  and  lay  in  line  of  battle,  having  little  to  do  but  wait 
orders,  and  catching  only  occasional  shots  from  the 
Southern  guns  along  the  heights.  Old  hands  under  fire, 
the  veterans — officers  and  men — lay  close  and  kept  still. 
Their  rifles  could  effect  nothing  against  an  enemy  uphill 
and  behind  entrenchments.  New  hands,  not  yet  used 
to  battle,  were  not  so  quiet,  and  the  gallant  colonel  of 
the  great  battalion  of  Wolverines,  big  almost  as  the  rest 
of  the  brigade,  thought  it  necessary  to  ride  up  and  down 
his  line,  exhorting  his  men  to  steadiness  in  loud  and 
powerful  voice.  "  It  lets  'em  know  I'm  here/'  said  he, 
to  the  expostulant  commander  of  the  next  door  regi 
ment.  "  I  see,"  said  the  latter,  as  a  volley  flashed  down 
from  Early's  fellows  along  the  crest,  "  and  it  also  lets  the 
enemy.  Your  men  will  be  steadier  without  the  telling," 
which  reasoning  the  colonel  pondered  over  and  ac 
cepted.  He  and  his  thoroughbreds  were  spoiling  for  a 
chance  to  show  their  neighbors  from  the  adjoining 
States  that  they  were  quite  as  valiant  as  the  vaunted 


270  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

old  brigade.     "  Give  us  half  a  chance,"  said  he,  "  and 
then — you  look  out  for  the  Wolverines." 

But  neither  Fredericksburg,  nor  Chancellorsville,  nor 
Virginia,  nor  even  Maryland  afforded  the  longed-for 
opportunity.  Not  until  the  desperate  clinch  far  up  on 
Pennsylvania  soil — not  until  the  midsummer  morning 
of  the  first  day  at  Gettysburg — did  their  time  come,  but 
when  it  came  it  proved  a  test  the  like  of  which  had 
never  been  met  before,  even  in  that  hard-fighting,  hard- 
hammered  command. 

Meanwhile,  what  had  not  befallen  other  actors  in  our 
story — notably  the  Damon  and  Pythias  of  the  ante 
bellum  days,  Benton  and  Paul  Ladue. 

"  Seems  to  have  'bout  as  many  friends  among  the  rebs 
as  he  has  on  our  side  of  the  line,"  had  the  division  com 
mander  remarked  of  Benton,  though  in  a  moment  of 
exaggerated  biliousness,  the  day  after  the  retreat  from 
the  Southern  shore.  Everybody  was  in  evil  temper  at 
the  time.  The  repeated  assaults  on  that  entrenched 
and  commanding  line  had  cost  fearfully.  The  army 
had  fought  and  bled  with  all  its  old  hopeless  devotion. 
Even  Burnside's  fiercest  critics  had  battled  bravely  for 
him  on  the  field,  but  he  had  heard  the  hard  things  said 
of  him  by  some,  at  least,  of  their  number,  and  the  army 
was  to  have  another  shaking  up  in  consequence.  Then 
Fred's  new  general  had  come  in  for  a  rasping  from  the 
corps  commander,  because  the  leading  brigade  took 
the  wrong  road  in  the  rain  and  darkness,  going  back  to 
the  pontoon  bridge,  and  so  delayed  matters  over  an  hour. 


BEARDING    THE    LION    IN    HIS   DEN  271 

It  happened  that  Benton  had  guided  the  division  to  its 
first  position  on  the  field;  that  he  had  been  sent  to  find 
General  Franklin;  that  when  he  returned  with  a  mes 
sage  from  this  latter  officer,  the  division  was  in  motion, 
and  the  commander  had  ridden  off  to  speak  with  Gibbon 
or  somebody  else,  and  Benton  followed,  of  course,  in 
search  of  his  chief,  instead  of  staying  with  the  head  of 
column.  Finding  himself  rebuked,  the  general  repri 
manded  Benton  in  the  presence  and  hearing  of  officers 
and  men.  Benton's  heart  and  temper  being  both  sore 
and  tried,  he  had  replied  with  much  spirit,  if  not  subordi 
nation,  to  the  effect  that  the  message  he  was  charged 
to  deliver  admitted  of  no  delay;  that  if  the  general  had 
been  where  he  belonged  there  would  have  been  no  de 
lay;  and  that  sooner  than  submit  to  such  injustice  he 
would  ask  to  be  relieved  from  staff  duty  forthwith,  and 
wrote  that  very  night  to  his  old  friend  and  general,  then 
a  member  of  an  important  military  tribunal  at  Wash 
ington,  begging  his  advice  and  intervention,  and  telling 
him,  of  course,  the  story  of  poor  Ladue. 

But,  being  coupled  with  another,  that  story  was  now 
almost  an  old  one  at  the  capital,  for  thither  had  the 
poor  lad  been  sent  and  Jennings  with  him;  Paul  look 
ing,  indeed,  "  more  dead  than  alive,"  for  a  strange, 
eventful  history  had  been  his  ever  since  the  dreadful 
morning  north  of  Sharpsburg  that  stretched  him  sense 
less  in  front  of  Gibbon's  furious  guns.  "  Killed,"  said 
Lamar  and  other  officers  who  saw  him  borne  away  in 
a  blanket.  "  Mortally  wounded,"  said  the  hospital  at- 


272  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

tendants  who  first  ministered  to  him,  back  of  the  Dunker 
church,  where  reigned  confusion  inexpressible  owing  to 
the  appalling  number  of  those  needing  surgical  aid. 
How  he  got  there  or  beyond,  Paul  never  knew  until  long 
thereafter.  Stunned,  as  General  Jones  had  been,  by  the 
explosion  of  a  shell  just  over  his  head,  and  gashed 
across  the  breast  by  a  whirling  fragment  of  iron,  La- 
due  only  recovered  consciousness  four  days  after  the 
fight,  when  they  told  him  he  was  in  safe  hands  and  the 
house  of  a  farmer  not  three  miles  out  of  Shepherdstown. 
The  ambulance  team,  frightened  by  a  bursting  shell,  had 
toppled  the  driver  out  of  his  seat  and  run  away,  capsiz 
ing  the  crazy  vehicle  and  distributing  the  human  load 
along  a  country  lane.  That  was  the  last  of  Paul  Ladue 
for  six  long  weeks,  and  when  'he  came  to  the  verge  of 
recovery  his  comrades  had  gone  long  miles  away.  Union 
soldiers  were  on  every  side.  Tender-hearted  Virginians 
had  carried  him  to  their  loft  and  there  concealed  and 
cared  for  him  until  he  was  well  enough  to  move  about, 
and  in  November,  when  he  begged  to  be  aided  to  rejoin 
his  comrades,  every  pass  and  road  southward  was  held 
and  guarded.  Odd  as  it  may  seem,  the  easiest,  most 
practicable  way  for  Southern  soldier  to  go  from  the 
Potomac  to  his  own  people  was  by  way  of  the  North. 
The  young  men  of  the  family  were  in  Jackson's  Corps. 
The  old  father  was  permitted  to  go  to  and  fro,  market 
ing  at  Martinsburg  nearby,  or  Hagerstown  over  in 
Maryland.  His  wife  and  her  younger  sister,  whose 
husband  rode  with  Stuart,  had  relatives  at  Chambers- 


BEARDING   THE   LION    IN   HIS   DEN  273 

burg  and  Baltimore.  Through  these  kind  souls,  civilian 
clothing  was  bought  for  their  interesting  captive,  in 
whose  welfare  they  had  now  an  almost  sentimental  in 
terest,  and  by  mid  November  Paul  was  safely  under  the 
roof  of  a  well-to-do  and  most  active  Southern  sympa 
thizer  in  the  Monumental  City.  He  and  his  were  only 
too  proud  and  happy  to  serve  an  officer  of  the  Eleventh 
Alabama,  and  royally  they  entertained  him  and  most 
skilfully  planned  his  further  movements,  for  go  he 
would  to  resume  duty;  this,  too,  despite  the  pallor  and 
lassitude  that  told  he  was  still  far  from  strong. 

These  were  details  which  Ladue  could  not  reveal  at 
the  time.  He  had  revived  sufficiently  to  recognize  Ben- 
ton  and  to  speak  feebly  a  few  moments;  but  that  very 
night,  in  the  fog  and  darkness,  was  begun  the  building 
of  the  bridges,  the  crossing  of  the  left  grand  division, 
and  Fred  could  only  leave  his  poor  friend  with  the  sur 
geons  and  hasten  back  to  his  duty.  Four  days  later, 
when  he  would  have  ridden  to  the  hospital  camp  in 
search  of  him,  it  was  too  late.  Urgent  orders  had  come 
from  Stanton  himself,  the  great  and  growing  War  Secre 
tary,  to  send  the  prisoner  patient  thither  as  soon  as  he 
could  be  moved.  Jennings  had  already  gone  under 
strong  guard,  and  all  Benton  could  learn  at  the  moment 
was  that  there  had  been  a  break  from  prison  camp ;  that, 
aided  by  residents  of  Baltimore  and  of  Charles  County, 
some  Confederate  officers  had  escaped  to  the  Potomac ; 
and,  while  some  of  the  party  had  succeeded  in  cross 
ing,  one  boat  had  been  fired  on  and  swamped.  Two  of 
18 


274  THB   JRON  BRIGADE 

the  officers  had  been  captured,  one  being  poor  Paul, 
who  had  been  nearly  drowned,  and  was  found  in  a  fisher 
man's  hut  not  far  from  Mathias  Point.  Two  of  the 
party  were  still  at  large.  Arrests  of  suspected  civilians 
had  been  made,  both  in  Washington  and  Baltimore,  and 
certain  secret  service  officials  had  been  summarily  dis 
charged  by  order  of  the  Secretary,  as  being  unworthy  to 
hold  positions  of  such  trust  and  responsibility. 

"  Stanton  is  a  terror,"  said  Fred's  informant,  a  staff 
officer  just  from  Washington.  "  He  insisted  on  shutting 
out  McClellan,  just  as  Little  Mac  was  getting  a  good 
hold  and  learning  how  to  fight.  He  insisted  on  putting 
in  Burnside,  who  loved  McClellan  and  didn't  want  the 
command — didn't  think  himself  fit  for  it.  He  insisted  on 
Burnside  fighting,  and  Burnside  bumped  us  up  against 
a  stone  wall  where  we  butted  our  brains  out,  and  things 
have  gone  crooked  every  which  way.  God  help  the  man 
that  has  to  bump  up  against  Stanton  just  now !  " 

This  was  the  Wednesday  following  the  furious  storm 
of  that  Monday  night  of  mid  December,  under  cover  of 
which  the  honest,  loyal,  but  almost  broken-hearted  sol 
dier  had  withdrawn  his  silent  army  across  the  stream, 
with  twelve  thousand  of  its  number  sacrificed  to  the  in 
sane  demand  to  fight  and  satisfy  the  people  that  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  could  fight.  It  was  now  some 
thirty-six  hours  after  Fred's  serious  difference  with  his 
division  commander.  He  had  sent  the  morning  previous 
that  urgent  appeal  to  his  old  general  to  be  set  free  from 
further  contact  with  these  things  he  almost  loathed. 


BEARDING    THE   LION    IN    HIS    DEN  275 

He  looked  for  answer  within  the  week,  and,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  permission,  coldly  accorded  him  by  the 
chief  of  staff,  to  be  absent  over  night,  he  had  gone, 
heavy-hearted,  to  his  old  friends  of  the  Iron  Brigade, 
and  sought  at  their  hands  the  sympathy  and  consolation 
to  be  expected  of  men  who  had  themselves  felt  that  the 
official  atmosphere  was  frigid  where  once  it  had  been 
so  fair.  And  it  was  here,  on  Thursday  morning,  while 
breakfasting  with  the  genial  commander  of  the  Black 
Hats  and  listening  to  his  philosophic  advice  to  "  take 
things  coolly  "  and  that  "  all  would  come  right,"  he  was 
surprised  by  the  coming  of  a  cavalry  orderly,  splashed 
with  mud,  who  bore  a  missive  addressed  by  the  adjutant- 
general  of  the  division  and  marked  "  Immediate."  With 
a  word  of  apology  to  Colonel  Fairchild  and  his  officers, 
Benton  tore  it  open,  and  two  papers  fell  out.  One  read: 

"CAPTAIN  BENTON:  Enclosed  just  received.  The  general  says  you 
better  come  this  way  where  the  necessary  orders  will  meet  you,  and  you 
can  get  what  luggage  you  need.  There  will  be  steamers  going  all  the 
evening. 

41  [Signed]         BREWSTER,  A.  A.  G." 

The  second  was  a  telegram  to  the  Commanding 
General,  — th  Division,  — th  Corps,  and  bore  singular 
resemblance  to  one  received  on  almost  the  same  ground 
some  seven  months  previous: 

"Secretary  of  War  desires  to  see  Captain  Benton  of  your  staff  at 
once.  Take  first  boat.  Intermediate  commanders  notified.  No  delay. 

"L.  THOMAS,  Adjutant-General" 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  colonel,  "they  have  been 
prompt!  You  can  get  to  Acquia  by  noon,  can't  you?  " 


276  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Not  if  he  goes  back  by  way  of  Old  Scoffer's,"  re 
marked  a  field  officer,  thoughtfully.  "  Fred,  don't  you 
imagine  the  chief  wants  to  smooth  things  a  bit  before 
you  tell  Stanton  all  about  it?" 

"  Don't  go  back,  Benton.  Just  let  him  sweat.  It'll 
make  him  more  civil  another  time,"  began  an  impetuous 
comrade,  but  stopped  short  at  sight  of  the  cloud  in  Ben- 
ton's  eyes,  the  anxious  look  in  the  colonel's  fine,  clear- 
cut,  soldierly  face.  It  was  the  latter  who  spoke  again, 
and  without  interruption,  for  already  he  had  won  the 
faith  of  even  such  martial  iconoclasts  as  the  Black  Hats. 
"  This  means  something  more  than  a  mere  difference 
due  to  ill  temper,"  said  he.  "  You  are  wanted  for  a  pur 
pose,  Benton.  Is  it — about  Ladue,  do  you  think?  " 

Fred  had  already  risen.  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised," 
he  answered,  thinking  uncontrollably  of  the  words  of 
his  Washington  informant,  "  God  help  the  man  that  has 
to  bump  up  against  Stanton  just  now!  " 

Yet  he  rode  back  to  headquarters  and,  surely  enough, 
found  his  chief  there,  chafing  and  suspicious.  "  What's 
Stanton  want  of  you?"  he  blurted  out.  "  You  haven't 
— you  didn't — make  a  row  about  what  I  said  Monday 
night,  did  you?  We  were  all  cross-grained  then,  and  I 
didn't  happen  to  think  you  had  to  look  me  up  and  so — 
got  lost." 

"  I  have  certainly  written  to  a  friend  at  Washington 
asking  for  other  duty,  sir,"  said  Benton  firmly,  though 
his  anger  had  vanished  and  given  place  to  sadness  and 
anxiety.  "  I  did  not  get  lost,  however.  I  obeyed  or- 


BEARDING-    THE   LION    IN    HIS    DEN  277 

ders,  and  under  similar  circumstances  should  do  so 
again." 

"  I've  told  you  I  didn't  understand  the  matter  at  the 
time  or  I  shouldn't  have  said,  perhaps,  what  I  did," 
broke  in  Old  Scoffer,  both  hurt  and  troubled.  "  If 
you're  going  to  start  in  on  your  army  career  with  the 
idea  that  you're  never  going  to  get  hauled  over  the 
coals,  you've  mistaken  your  profession."  Scoffer  knew 
he  had  been  in  the  wrong.  He  wanted  to  undo  the 
wrong.  He  simply  didn't  know  how,  and  Benton 
wouldn't  help  him. 

"  You  say  *  perhaps,'  General,  and  that  implies  a  lin 
gering  doubt.  So  long  as  you  think  there  was  the 
slightest  justification  for  your  reprimand,  there  is  not 
the  slightest  use  of  my  trying  to  serve  you."  And  so 
they  parted  enemies,  if  anything,  and,  preceded  by  the 
story  of  Old  Scoffer's  vehement  assertion,  enlarged,  of 
course,  in  transit,  that  he  "  had  more  friends  in  the 
South  than  in  the  army,"  and  without  having  taken  the 
first  boat  or  having  opportunity  to  take  counsel  with 
his  former  chief,  Benton  reported  the  following  day  at 
the  War  Department,  and,  after  an  hour's  wait  and 
worry,  was  shown  into  the  presence  of  the  angering 
Secretary. 

It  was  a  dull  December  morning.  The  rain  had  been 
pattering  for  hours.  The  streets  were  deep  in  mud. 
The  flags  hung  limp  and  lifeless.  The  fog  wreaths  clung 
to  roof  and  cornice  and  drifted  low  about  the  crowded 
portico  without,  and  followed  the  splashed  and  dripping 


278  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

men,  boring  their  insistent  way  into  the  depths  of  the 
dingy  old  edifice.  It  was  a  day  of  gloom  and  despond. 
It  followed  close  on  the  heels  of  dire  disaster ;  and,  with 
the  stories  rushing  in  upon  him  of  contention,  disloyalty, 
and  disruption  at  the  front,  the  Iron  Secretary  was  stung 
and  goaded  by  the  evidences  of  triumphant  plot  and 
treason  all  about  him  and  among  the  cities  safeguarded 
at  the  rear.  Two  prominent  households  within  easy 
rifle-shot  of  his  desk  were  now  shown  to  have  been  in 
constant  correspondence  with  leaders  of  the  rebel  cause 
at  Richmond.  Two  families  in  Baltimore,  hitherto  un- 
watched,  were  found  to  have  been  connected  with  the 
recent  escape  of  closely-guarded  Confederate  officers 
from  a  prison  camp  almost  within  sight  of  the  flag  at 
Federal  Hill.  One  gallant  staff  officer,  scion  of  a  well- 
known  and  loyal  supporter  of  the  administration,  stood 
accused  of  intimate  acquaintance  with  several  of  the 
parties  to  the  plot  and  of  further  knowledge  of  their  de 
signs,  and  the  heart  of  the  Secretary  was  hot  within  him 
and  hardened  against  this  young  staff  officer  of  a  fight 
ing  corps,  who,  ushered  into  the  severe  and  repellent 
presence,  stood  silently  at  guard,  glanced  one  instant 
at  the  grave,  bearded  faces  of  the  three  officers  in  at 
tendance,  and  then,  blue  and  unflinching,  his  eyes  fixed 
almost  in  challenge  on  the  massive,  spectacled,  glower 
ing  front  of  the  great  patriot  and  statesman — the  force 
ful,  dominant,  War  Democrat,  Stanton. 

For  a  moment  each  studied  the  other,  and  the  menace 
in  Stanton's  frown  roused  the  spirit  of  fight  in  Benton's 


BEARDING   THE   LION    IN   HIS   DEN  279 

not  too  pacific  temperament.  "  What  business  has  a 
man  to  look  at  me  as  though  he  thought  I  ought  to  be 
hanged,  no  matter  if  he  is  War  Secretary  ?  "  was  the 
question  uppermost  in  the  Badger's  mind.  His  father, 
the  Squire,  had  once  trounced  a  brother-in-law  for  less. 
The  bump  of  insubordination  was  rising  even  before  the 
Secretary's  first  question. 

"  How  came  you  so  late,  sir?  " 

And  the  bump  was  in  his  throat,  as,  flushing  to  the 
brows,  the  Badger  answered: 

"  Possibly  because  I  was  kept  waiting  an  hour  outside, 
sir." 

Stanton's  veins  seemed  to  swell  to  thrice  their  natural 
size,  and  his  strong  face,  fringed  by  the  iron-gray  beard, 
turned  almost  purple. 

"  You  will  be  wise  to  keep  your  temper,  young  sir, 
if  you  wish  to  keep  your  commission.  You  owe  your 
escape  from  rebel  hands,  I  am  told,  to  certain  members 
of  Dr.  Chilton's  family,  of  Charlottesville." 

No  answer. 

"It  is  so,  is  it  not?" 

"  One  member  only,  sir." 

"  Lieutenant  Ladue  was  your  intimate  friend  at  home, 
I  believe."  Stanton  was  tapping  the  desk  with  a  long 
ruler  now — an  ominous  sign,  said  they  who  knew  him. 

"  He  was,  sir." 

"  Was  it  to  square  accounts  with  the  Chiltons  you 
sought  to  shield  him?  " 


280  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

"  I  have  had  to  shield  him  in  no  way,  sir.  He  had 
been  brought  here  before  I  could  see  him  again." 

Stanton  actually  smiled,  but  the  smile  was  grim  as 
any  scowl. 

'Then  it  was  by  helping  young  Chilton,  was  it?" 
And  the  professional  cross-examiner  tapped  more 
swiftly  on  the  table,  and  his  eyes  fairly  blazed  through 
the  spectacles. 

Benton  was  boiling  over  now. 

"  I  never  heard  until  an  hour  ago  that  he  had  got 
away,  sir.  I'm  g " 

"  Glad,  I  dare  say,"  said  the  Secretary,  with  sarcastic 
force.  "  We  heard  as  much  of  you — and  more."  Then, 
sudden  as  a  steel  trap,  "  What  did  you  do  with  the 
papers  you  received  from  Ladue  ?  " 

This  time  there  was  no  mistaking  Benton's  start  of 
amaze.  He  was  kneeling  by  poor  Paul's  side  in  the 
hospital  tent,  when  with  feeble,  nerveless  hand  the  boy 
had  passed  a  little  packet  to  him  and  faintly  whispered 
his  request. 

"What  did  you  do  with  them?"  demanded  Stanton, 
and  now  the  officers  standing  at  the  side  of  the  room 
seemed  to  hold  their  breath. 

"  Nothing,  as  yet,"  was  the  unlooked  for  reply. 

"Then  you  still  have  those  papers?"  and  Stanton 
seemed  rising  from  his  chair. 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  Benton  seemed  ready  to  spring  to 
meet  him,  with  fight  in  every  line  of  his  face. 


BEARDING    THE    LION    IN    HIS    DEN  281 

"Here?"  and  Stanton  had  dropped  the  ruler  and 
gripped  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Here,"  and  Benton  had  the  "  touch-if-you-dare  " 
look  of  a  bull-dog  watching  a  bone. 

"  You  may  deliver  them  to  Major  Thorpe,"  said  Stan- 
ton,  as  though  the  matter  were  settled,  and  the  major 
accordingly,  but  uncertainly,  advanced  a  step  or  two. 
He  was  fifty  years  of  age,  and  Benton  was  barely  half 
his  years,  but  the  elder  little  liked  the  look  of  the 
younger's  eyes. 

"  I  may  not,  Mr.  Secretary,"  and  despite  his  wrath, 
something  almost  like  a  smile  of  amusement  played 
about  the  corners  of  Benton's  firm  set  lips.  "  Those 
letters  concern  only  two  people  on  earth,  Ladue  and — 
.my  sister.  You  may  have  my  resignation  this  minute, 
but  not  her  letters." 


CHAPTER    XXII 

"  CAPTAIN   BENTON,   YOT/RE   A   COWARD  !  " 

"  A  spy  in  camp,"  was  what  the  brigade  said,  when  it 
heard  the  story  that  came  from  Washington,  and  "  hop 
ping  mad  "  was  the  brigade.  Its  fur  had  been  rubbed 
the  wrong  way  by  the  little  flings  of  rivals,  prompted 
by  the  pitiable  envy  that  seems  inseparable  from  any 
profession  whose  reward  is  mainly  reputation.  Its  sense 
of  subordination,  too,  had  been  tried  by  tales  of  sneer 
ing  remarks  made  by  General  This  or  Colonel  That, 
and  it  firmly  believed  that  much  of  Fred  Benton's  pres 
ent  trowble  was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  wouldn't  stand 
hearing  them  abused,  belittled,  or  maligned.  In  greatly 
exaggerated  form,  the  rumor  of  his  disagreements  with 
his  fellow  staff  officers  and  his  "  row  with  Old  Scoffer  " 
had  gone  the  round  of  the  regiments,  to  the  end  that 
Fred  was  now  looked  upon  as  a  hero  and  a  champion, 
even  by  the  Black  Hats,  who  rarely  saw  heroism  in  any 
body,  who  scouted  the  idea  of  needing  a  champion  and 
who  pronounced  one  general  of  the  Army  of  the  Poto 
mac,  at  least,  a  consummate  ass.  They  were  mad  clear 
through  when  told  he  had  declared  Benton  disloyal — 
"  had  more  friends  in  the  South  than  in  the  army." 
Only  a  few  weeks  previous  they  had  been  pulling  Ben- 


"CAPTAIN    BBNTON,    YOU'RE    A   COWARD"       283 

ton  to  pieces  among  themselves,  because  of  his  ap 
parent  neglect  of  them  and  preference  for  his  new  as 
sociates.  Now  they  were  all  afire  at  the  idea  of  any 
one  abusing  him,  and  there  was  wrath  and  wonder  in 
camp  when  it  was  learned  that  by  order  of  Stanton  him 
self  Fred  Benton  was  held  in  close  arrest,  with  the  pros 
pect,  said  rumor,  of  being  sent  to  that  so-called  Bastile 
of  the  war  days — Fort  Lafayette. 

Why  not?  Was  not  a  gallant  general  officer  who  had 
organized  the  first  defense  of  the  National  Capital  al 
ready  there,  vainly  pleading  to  be  heard  against  the  ac 
cusations  of  unknown,  even  anonymous,  foes? — stripped 
of  command  and  mured  in  that  Chateau  d'lf  of  the  New 
York  Narrows,  because  there  had  been,  a  disaster,  and 
some  "  pipe-inspired  "  private  told  a  newspaper  tale  of 
having  seen  the  general  communing  with  rebels  the  day 
previous?  Were  not  commissioned  officers  of  the  regu 
lar  army  who  had  fought  superbly  in  battle  after  battle, 
suddenly  and  summarily  dismissed  the  service  by  that 
imperious  will,  without  so  much  as  a  chance  to  confront 
and  confound  the  accuser,  because  of  some  story 
brought  to  the  secretarial  ear  that  roused  the  secretarial 
ire?  Small  comfort  was  it  to  the  victim  that  the  order 
of  dismissal  was  later  revoked.  There  to  this  day  stands 
the  unmerited  blot  on  the  record  to  the  end  that,  long 
years  after,  it  could  be  truthfully  said  by  a  journal  de 
sirous  of  creating  adverse  feeling,  "  This  officer  was 
summarily  dismissed  the  service  in  186 — ." 

And  if  generals  and  graduates  could  be  thus  con- 


284  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

demned  and  confined  without  trial  or  hearing,  what 
could  a  lone  lieutenant  expect,  who  had  confessedly 
been  the  intimate  friend  of  one  Confederate  officer,  held 
to  be  a  spy  because  caught  in  civilian  dress  after  long 
weeks  of  domicile;  who  had  visited  that  officer,  held 
private  converse  with  him,  received  important  papers  at 
his  hands  and  refused  to  surrender  them;  who  had,  fur 
thermore,  confessed  that  he  had  given  material  aid  and 
comfort  to  another  enemy,  Lieutenant  J.  Bankheacl 
Chilton,  when  a  prisoner  in  his  charge  after  the  affair 
of  Gainesville;  who  had  previously  aided  to  escape  one 
Dr.  Chilton,  father  of  the  same,  a  resident  of  Charlottes- 
ville  and  supporter  of  the  rebellion,  then  in  possession 
of  valuable  information  as  to  our  forces  and  movements 
(no  mention  here,  of  course,  of  McDowell's  authority); 
and  who,  having  spent  much  time  as  a  guest  of  the  Chil 
ton  family  at  Charlottesville,  had  been  by  them,  through 
their  influence  at  Richmond,  sent  back  to  our  lines  in 
order,  doubtless,  that  he  might  obtain  and  furnish  more 
treasonable  information. 

Oh,  a  beautiful  case  was  this  worked  up  against  Cap 
tain  Fred  Benton,  A.  D.  C,  if  the  rumors  from  the 
rear  could  be  believed,  and  strange  it  was,  indeed, 
that  in  the  midst  of  all  the  wrath  and  despond  in  all 
ranks,  there  should  appear  at  the  camps  of  the  Iron 
Brigade,  shaking  hands  with  brother  officers  and  sol 
diers,  that  very  able  talker  and  genial  fellow-citizen, 
Major  McKinnon,  and  Mac  had  lots  to  tell.  Growlers 
— and  most  men  were  growlers  that  woful  Christmas- 


"CAPTAIN   BENTON,    YOU'RE    A   COWARD"      285 

tide  along  the  Stafford  Heights — who  asked  him  why 
he  wasn't  with  his  regiment,  were  told  that  he  was 
still  on  court-martial  duty,  but  court  had  adjourned 
over  Christmas.  Growlers  at  first  only  growled  when 
McKinnon  tentatively  began  to  talk  about  Benton  and 
Ladue,  but  later  they  listened — most  men  will — and 
when  he  returned  three  days  later  to  his  court  at  the 
Capital  and  made  report  to  certain  confidential  officers 
at  the  Department,  it  must  be  admitted  that,  though  he 
took  back  with  him  far  less  of  compromising  character 
concerning  Benton  than  he  expected  and  hoped,  he  left 
a  lot  behind  him. 

But  then  came  the  "  mud  march  "  in  which  even  the 
elements  joined  forces  with  the  disaffected  of  the  gen 
erals,  as  well  as  the  enemy,  against  that  most  unhappy 
soldier  at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  in  the  overwhelming 
slough  of  despond,  McKinnon's  mud  slinging  might 
have  been  forgotten.  The  weather  had  been  fine  up  to 
the  moment  Burnside  essayed  his  move;  then  came  the 
deluge;  and  when  the  old  brigade  got  back  to  its  camps 
and  scraped  off  the  tons  of  sacred  soil  still  clinging  to  its 
boots,  there  was  no  one  having  other  weight  who  could 
go  to  Washington  and  tell  the  great  War  Secretary  he 
was  utterly  mistaken  as  to  Benton.  For  far  less  than 
that  temerity  had  men  been  exiled  to  Santa  Rosa  or 
Ship  Island.  Fred's  first  general  was  a  stranger  to  Stan- 
ton,  and  his  appeal  for  speedy  justice  for  his  former 
aide-de-camp  was  ignored,  as  coming,  so  McKinnon 
said,  from  the  man  that  guarded  rebel  property  and 


286  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

abandoned  positions  that  he  was  bidden  to  hold. 
McKinnon,  of  course,  could  not  be  expected  to  know 
the  real  truth — or  to  tell  it  if  he  did. 

And  all  this  time  there  lay  at  the  Old  Capitol  prison, 
awaiting  needed  evidence  to  prove  him  a  spy,  a  very 
luckless  young  soldier,  Paul  Ladue.  All  this  time  there 
fumed  and  chafed,  confined  in  arrest  to  the  limits  of 
Greble  Barracks  and  the  adjoining  square  in  which  were 
the  officers'  quarters,  Captain  Fred  Benton,  A.  D.  C, 
forbidden  to  see  Ladue,  and  well-nigh  forbidden  to  be 
seen  by  anybody  save  secret  service  specimens  detailed 
for  the  purpose.  All  this  time,  persisted  the  brigade  in 
saying,  there  must  have  been  a  spy  on  Benton's  words 
and  deeds  while  with  the  division,  and  who  could  be  the 
spy?  All  this  time  there  came  no  tidings  of  that  other 
escaped  prisoner  of  war,  Jack  Chilton.  All  this  time 
not  once  did  Dr.  Chilton  and  his  devoted  and  sorrowing 
daughter  step  forth  for  air  or  sunshine  that  they  were 
not  "  shadowed."  All  this  time  there  was  a  man  that 
could  have  thrown  light  on  the  situation,  but  most  un 
accountably  had  he  disappeared — Jennings,  he  of  the  old 
stone  house,  captured  by  cavalry  near  Mathias  Point  in 
the  act  of  succoring  or  aiding  escaping  prisoners,  and 
sent,  with  Ladue,  almost  in  shackles,  to  Washington. 
Jennings  was  again  at  large,  and  the  Department  de 
clared  it  knew  not  whither  he  had  gone.  He  had  been 
released,  was  the  explanation — well — because  it  would 
appear  that  he  had  only  done  what  humanity  dictated — 


"CAPTAIN    BENTON,    YOU'RE    A   COWARD"       287 

helped  and  nursed  a  half  drowned,  half  fever-burned, 
half  dying  man. 

Then  the  Squire  came  out  from  the  West,  and  that 
lusty  patriot  happened  to  be  at  odds  with  State  officials 
over  some  regimental  appointment.  A  hot  correspond 
ence  had  led  to  a  coldness  between  him  and  a  certain 
senator.  The  great  President  was  now  confronted  by 
new  and  direful  problems — Burnside  had  demanded  the 
dismissal  of  several  of  his  generals  or  else  his  own.  A 
new  chief  of  the  army  had  to  be  chosen  at  this  crisis  of 
its  history.  A  great  corps  commander,  McClellan's 
stanchest  friend  and  supporter,  had  been  sentenced  by 
court-martial  of  his  peers  to  be  cashiered  and  forever 
disqualified.  Two  others,  inimical  to  Burnside,  the 
President  was  asked  to  disgrace,  together  with  generals 
of  minor  grade.  The  very  climax  of  Lincoln's  cares 
seemed  to  have  come.  No  wonder  the  mighty  captain 
could  not  anchor  his  craft  in  the  rush  of  the  rapids,  and 
lower  a  boat  for  the  little  boy's  apple.  No  wonder  he 
had  no  time  to  personally  investigate  the  case  of  Ben- 
ton's  beloved  son.  "  The  new  housekeeper,"  he  said, 
"  would  quit  without  notice  rather  than  submit  to  inter 
ference."  With  sorrowing,  suffering,  anxious  heart  he 
let  Burnside  go,  and  set  Burnside's  fiercest  critic,  himself 
to  lose  his  head  a  few  weeks  later,  in  Burnside's  place, 
and  then  the  great,  loyal,  triple-tried  army  went  in  again, 
with  overwhelming  numbers,  to  round  up  that  thin  gray 
line  along  the  southward  heights.  Again  the  fords  were 
ribboned  with  the  pale  blue  columns,  as  a  dozen  great 


988  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

divisions  circled  the  Confederate  left.  Again  did  Jack 
son  dare  to  drop  everything  at  the  front,  swing  clear 
round  the  outermost  line  and  come  crushing  in  on  an 
astonished  and  bewildered  flank.  "  Never,"  say  the  Con 
federates,  and  God  knows  they  know,  "  did  the  Yanks 
fight  harder  than  at  Chancellorsville  " — that  is,  those 
who  fought  at  all,  for  only  a  fourth  of  their  entire  array 
were  given  a  chance,  but  again  "Back  to  the  fords!" 
was  the  order,  and,  cursing  their  luck  and  praying  for 
a  fair  fight  and  no  favor,  back  the  fourth  time  went  the 
army.  Then  came  the  summer,  the  race  for  the  Poto 
mac,  and  the  rush  at  last  to  the  high-water  mark  of 
rebellion  on  the  shores  of  the  Susquehanna. 

But  meantime  there  had  been  a  scene  or  two  at  Wash 
ington,  never  mentioned  in  the  chronicles  of  the  day  and 
in  the  midst  of  alarms  and  distractions  such  as  Washing 
ton  had  never  known  before.  Such  matters  as  the  pub 
lic  cowhiding  of  an  army  officer  almost  in  front  of  the 
White  House  would  be  "  scare-headed  "  from  Maine  to 
Manila  to-day,  but  the  papers  had  no  space  for  it  then. 
Squire  Benton  had  touched  up  McKinnon's  new  uniform 
to  the  tune  of  thirty  lashes  before  the  police  could  step 
in  and  spoil  the  sport,  and  only  in  a  local  journal  and 
one  or  two  in  the  far  West  was  the  affair  referred  to. 

Paul  Ladue,  convalescent,  had  been  twice  subjected  to 
rigid  questioning  with  the  hope  of  establishing  the  guilty 
connivance  in  his  escape  of  a  certain  Baltimore  house 
hold,  as  well  as  a  certain  Union  officer,  and  with  the 
result  of  establishing  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  even 


"CAPTAIN    BENTON,    YOU'RE    A    COWARD"       289 

in  his  weakness  he  had  more  strength  and  "  sand  "  than 
the  prosecution.  Then  he  was  tendered  release  on 
parole,  for  long  investigation  had  failed  to  unearth  a 
thing  to  warrant  detention  as  a  spy. 

A  romantic  turn  in  the  tide  of  affairs  had  come  when 
a  certain  senator  called  on  the  Secretary  and  offered  to 
show  that  the  incriminating  papers  which  Benton  had 
refused  to  surrender  and  which  Miss  Benton  now  would 
be  willing  to  show,  if  necessary  to  save  the  prisoner's 
life,  were  personal  letters  and  nothing  more.  Stanton 
knew  this,  probably,  as  well  as  the  senator,  but  was 
wroth  that  any  one  else  should  know  it,  and  furious 
that  an  officer  should  dare  refuse  to  surrender  them, 
no  matter  what  or  whose  they  were.  Then  Ladue's 
Baltimore  friends  had  sent  word  across  the  line  that 
Ladue  was  to  be  tried  as  a  spy  and  hanged  whether 
convicted  or  not,  and  an  Alabama  brigade  declared  in 
reply  that  they  would  hang  the  first  Yankee  lieutenant 
they  caught  if  a  hair  of  Paul's  head  were  injured. 

One  thing,  it  was  said,  that  had  made  Stanton  so 
forceful  a  prosecutor  in  the  past  was  the  ease  with 
which  he  could  always  persuade  himself  of  a  prisoner's 
guilt,  the  jury  following  as  the  night  the  day.  Some 
thing  had  to  be  done,  he  had  said,  to  stop  this  whole 
sale  transmission  of  state  and  military  secrets  to  the 
enemy,  and  a  victim  was  demanded.  He  had  mured 
this  Confederate  officer,  caught  in  civilian  dress,  in 
Old  Capitol  prison,  and  if  he  wasn't  a  spy,  then  he 
."  must  have  neglected  his  opportunities  and  deserved 
19 


290  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

to  be  hanged."  What  made  Stanton  so  hot  against 
Ladue  was  that  so  many  women,  clergymen,  church 
people,  and  others  took  to  pleading  for  the  lad.  Then 
it  was  that  McKinnon  began  to  find  favor  at  the 
War  Department.  Then  it  was  that  Captain  Benton's 
limits  were  restricted  instead  of  being  enlarged.  Then 
it  was  that  soft-hearted  surgeons  at  the  Old  Capitol 
hospital  were  replaced  by  men  of  sterner  stuff.  Then  it 
was  that  the  Chiltons  were  notified  that  they  must  leave 
Washington  forthwith,  and  the  Squire,  bursting  with 
wrath  at  being  forbidden  to  see  the  doctor  and  his 
daughter,  had  had  brief  conference  with  Fred,  now  al 
most  fretting  his  heart  out  at  the  barracks;  had  learned 
through  an  officer  of  rank  in  the  regular  service  that 
beyond  possibility  of  doubt  Major  McKinnon  was  at  the 
bottom  of  all  these  new  and  most  oppressive  orders; 
had  gone  to  the  White  House  with  a  demand  to  see  the 
President;  had  been  promised  an  opportunity  immedi 
ately  after  cabinet  meeting  that  afternoon;  had  met 
McKinnon  sauntering  down  the  avenue  in  company 
with  a  fellow  soldier-lawyer,  and  had  hurled  himself 
upon  him  then  and  there,  to  the  end  that  the  major  was 
picked  up  and  carried  to  Willard's,  the  Squire  escorted 
to  the  police  station,  and  the  interview  didn't  come  off. 
It  is  recorded  of  the  President  that  when  told  of  the  in 
cident  that  evening,  his  sad  face  brightened  for  the  first 
time  in  a  week.  "  I  wonder  if  the  Squire  would  let  me 
make  him  a  general,"  said  he.  "  At  least  he  fights." 


"CAPTAIN   BENTON,    YOU'RE   A   COWARD"      291 

That  night  a  soldier  of  the  regular  service  did  a  thing 
that,  had  Stanton  known  it  at  the  time — and  it's  a  won 
der  he  didn't — would  doubtless  have  sent  that  soldier  to 
close  arrest,  if  not  to  a  cell.  He  was  an  officer  of  rank,  a 
gentleman  of  gentlemen,  and  a  fellow  beloved  of  his  fel 
low  men.  Entrusted  with  an  order  to  see  that  Dr. 
Chilton  and  daughter  were  safely  sent  to  the  steamer 
for  Old  Point  Comfort,  a  suitable  guard  going  with 
them,  he  had  called  on  the  kindly  old  Virginian  late  in 
the  afternoon.  He  knew  something  of  the  Chiltons  and 
much  of  their  story,  and  was  not  the  man  Stanton  would 
have  sent  to  work  his  will.  Already  their  few  prepara 
tions  were  complete.  The  order  for  their  removal  had 
been  sent  the  previous  day.  A  revulsion  of  feeling,  such 
as  young  Pelham  had  predicted  after  Antietam,  had 
surely  set  in  at  Charlottesville,  for  many  a  wounded  lad 
from  the  front  had  had  his  say  against  the  croakers  and 
scandal-mongers  at  home,  and  it  was  believed  that  now 
the  doctor  would  be  glad  to  go.  Moreover,  it  was 
known  to  just  two  officers  at  Greble  Barracks,  not  three 
squares  from  the  modest  roof  that  had  given  shelter 
to  the  doctor  and  his  fair,  sad-faced  daughter,  that  a 
sum  in  gold  sufficient  for  their  needs  had  been  placed 
in  the  doctor's  hands  through  the  sister  already  men 
tioned.  But,  so  far  from  being  glad  to  go,  both  doctor 
and  daughter  had  shown  grave  embarrassment  at  the 
tidings,  and  this  despite  evident  effort.  There  could  be 
but  one  explanation  of  that — Jack  Chilton  was  still 
North,  unable  possibly  to  travel,  and  concealed  by  faith- 


292  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

ful  friends.  So  long,  therefore,  as  he  was  this  side  of 
the  now  closely-patrolled  Potomac,  the  Chiltons  could 
not  bear  to  go. 

There  had  been  a  brief,  courteous  talk.  The  officer 
deeply  regretted,  he  said,  to  have  to  be  the  means  of 
carrying  out  the  order,  but  he  would  call  with  a  carriage 
at  8.30.  Was  there  anything  he  or  his  wife  could  do  for 
Miss  Chilton? 

"  There  is,  sir,"  answered  a  voice  at  the  folding  doors, 
behind  which  two  voices — women's — had  been  heard  in 
earnest,  almost  excited  conversation,  and  with  cheeks 
flushing  through  their  pallor  and  eyes  that  flashed  de 
spite  evidence  of  recent  tears,  Rosalie  Chilton  swept 
quickly  into  the  room.  "  We  hear  that  Mr.  Benton — 
Squire  Benton — too,  has  been  arrested  and — my  aunt 
will  not  admit  of  anything — but  I  feel  that  it  is  to  him 
we  are  indebted  for  most  generous  aid.  Major,  I  wish 
to  see  him,  to  thank  him,  to — tell  him  something — as 
his  daughter  is  not  here.  Can  that  be  arranged  before 
we  go?  " 

"  If  a  possible  thing,"  said  the  major,  well  knowing 
the  Squire  was  out  on  bail  by  this  time,  and  would  cer 
tainly  come  in  person.  All  the  same,  he  told  his  wife 
at  dinner  of  Miss  Chilton's  request  and,  what  had  not 
that  keen-witted  army  woman  already  known  or  sur 
mised? 

"  He  cannot  leave  barracks,"  said  she,  on  the  spot, 
"but  you  can  invite  him  here  to  your  quarters;  then 


"CAPTAIN    BENTON,    YOU'RE    A    COWARD"       293 

bring  them  here  on  the  way  to  the  boat  and  leave  the 
rest  to  me." 

"He  cannot  leave!  Why,  my  dear,  he  isn't  in  bar 
racks.  The  police "  begins  the  major,  obtusely. 

"  Major!  You  ask  Captain  Benton  here  and — and — 
no  questions,"  interposes  madame  with  severe  and 
superior  wisdom.  "  Then  bring — her  to  me."  And 
light  begins  to  dawn  on  the  master — and  he  obeys. 

That  evening — it  was  late  in  winter  and  keen — a  car 
riage  whirled  past  the  guarded  gateway  of  the  barrack 
square  and  drew  up  at  the  quarters  of  the  commanding 
officer,  a  rented,  furnished  house  across  the  street.  The 
major  stepped  forth,  tendered  his  hand  to  an  agile,  slen 
der  girl  who  stopped  one  instant  to  kiss  the  gray-haired 
gentleman  beside  her,  then  followed  her  soldier  escort 
to  the  doorway,  where,  with  eyes  that  shone  and  cheeks 
that  colored  and  lips  that  puckered  and  hands  that 
clasped  in  sympathy  and  compassion  unspeakable,  a 
warm-hearted  wife  and  mother  met  the  motherless  girl 
and  drew  her  in.  The  major  went  back  to  the  doctor; 
the  lady  led  her  guest  to  the  parlor  door  and  ushered 
her  into  the  dimly-lighted,  cosily-warmed  and  closely- 
curtained  room;  then  vanished,  and,  for  the  first  time 
since  that  night  at  Charlottesville,  Fred  Benton  stood 
face  to  face,  alone,  with  the  girl  he  so  fondly  and  so 
sadly  loved. 

And  when  he,  in  infinite  yearning  and  love,  stepped 
eagerly  toward  her,  his  eyes  shining,  his  hands  out 
stretched,  the  furred  hood  fell  back  from  her  flushing 


294  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

face,  revealing  it  in  all  its  dark  and  queenly  beauty. 
Her  eyes,  too,  flashed,  as  in  amaze,  and  then  in  anger 
unspeakable  she  recoiled.     One  instant  she  glared  at 
him,  then  spoke : 
"Captain  Benton,  you — you're  a  coward!" 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

GETTYSBURG 

The  spring  had  come  and  gone,  the  flowers  were  in 
blossom  and  bloom,  but  the  voice  of  the  turtle  had  not 
yet  been  heard  in  the  land.  The  sword  of  Lee  led  again 
to  the  border.  The  spirit  of  Jackson  had  fled  to  the 
skies.  Grimmer  than  ever,  old  Ewell  now  ruled  at  the 
head  of  the  famous  "  Foot  Cavalry  "  Corps,  foremost  in 
the  dash  for  the  Susquehanna.  All  Washington,  as  so 
frequently  happened,  was  in  turmoil,  all  Richmond  in 
transports  of  joy.  Under  the  same  tried  and  trusted 
leaders,  save  that  Jackson  was  gone,  the  arms  of  the 
South  swept  on  to  invasion.  Under  the  new,  sore-tried 
and  little-trusted  leaders  the  arms  of  the  North  were 
reversed  in  pursuit.  Hooker  had  quit,  as  he  said,  in 
disgust,  declaring  no  man  could  plan  and  fight  with  a 
string  to  his  shirt-tail  and  Stanton  and  Halleck  a-pull 
at  the  string.  Reynolds,  calm  and  sagacious,  soldier 
and  fighter,  had  been  tendered  command,  and  politely 
declined.  Meade,  his  subordinate,  stepped  over  his 
head,  since  Reynolds  would  none  of  it,  and  with  prayer 
and  misgiving  picked  up  the  reins  dropped  by  Hooker 
in  sight  of  the  Maryland  shore.  And  the  same  hard 
fighting,  hard  marching,  hard  swearing,  hard  used  old 


296  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

army  hove  in  sight  of  the  stream  that  had  given  it  its 
name,  and  one  corps,  at  least,  had  lost  nothing  by  the 
change.  The  First  Corps,  the  fellows  now  wearing  the 
ball  on  their  caps,  were  well  content  with  their  leaders. 
With  Reynolds  to  command  them,  and  the  men  they  best 
knew  at  the  head  of  divisions  and  brigades,  they  asked 
no  favor  beyond  a  fair  fight,  and  none  were  more  eager, 
hopeful,  urgent  than  they  of  the  First  Brigade  of  the 
First  Division — they  who  wore  the  red  disk — and  of 
these  were  our  impudent  friends  of  the  Black  Hats,  still 
topped  by  the  feathered  felt  and  breeched  with  the  dark 
blue  and  ready  as  ever  to  pick  a  fight  with  the  foe  or 
flaws  in  the  armor  of  less  favored  battalions. 

A  shout  had  gone  up  one  day  on  the  Rappahannock 
when  the  word  went  the  rounds  that  Fred  Benton  was 
back.  Suddenly  had  he  appeared  in  their  midst  just 
before  Chancellorsville,  and  royal  was  the  welcome 
they  gave  him.  Sad,  pale,  careworn,  aged  as  he  looked, 
he  was  there,  "  on  deck  "  again,  and  they  hailed  him  as 
one  who  had  stood  their  friend  and  defender,  who  had 
suffered  much  on  their  account,  and  most  magnani 
mously  did  they  agree  to  forget  that  they  had  ever 
maligned  him — not  so  easy  a  thing  to  do  as  it  may  ap 
pear  at  first  sight,  it  being  a  frailty  of  the  average  post- 
adamite  to  feel  bound  to  make  good  a  calumny. 

But  Benton  had  changed,  said  they,  as  a  result  of  the 
first  week  of  watching.  He  had  grown  silent  and  stern, 
if  not  sour.  He  seemed  filled  with  restless,  feverish  en 
ergy,  and  no  sooner  was  the  main  army  back  from 


GETTYSBURG  297 

Hooker's  first  essay  as  chief  in  command,  than  he  sought 
and  obtained  permission  to  go  scouting  with  a  small 
force  of  cavalry  among  the  by-roads  and  lanes  of  the 
down-stream  counties.  More  than  the  limit  of  the  law, 
the  prescribed  forty  days,  had  the  orders  of  the  War 
Secretary  held  him  in  limbo,  all  the  time  clamoring  for 
a  hearing,  a  trial  by  court-martial — anything  to  enable 
him  to  face  his  accusers  and  put  an  end  to  that  military 
lettre  de  cachet  business  then,  and  sometimes  thereafter, 
the  resort  of  the  powers  martial  when  witnesses  weak 
ened.  Released  and  ordered  to  resume  duty  with  that 
military  modification  of  the  Scotch  verdict,  "  Not  guilty, 
but — don't  do  it  again,"  Benton  came  back  to  the  front, 
burning  with  wrath  at  the  foe  at  the  rear — a  foe  per 
sonal,  official  and  professional,  whom  he  felt  must  be 
McKinnon.  He  was  not  allowed  to  know  at  the  time, 
nor  to  see  until  long  after,  the  extent  of  McKinnon's 
intrigue  against  him  or  of  its  reaction  on  McKinnon 
himself.  Only  one  officer  witnessed  the  scene,  a 
week  after  the  Chiltons,  father  and  daughter,  had  been 
returned  to  the  Southern  lines,  when  Stanton  de 
manded  of  the  major  that  he  prove  his  case  or  there 
after  hold  his  peace.  He  had  "  fooled  away  a  whole 
month,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  filled  it  with  vague  charges 
and  failed  on  the  specifications."  They  sent  him  away, 
ostensibly  to  straighten  out  a  legal  tangle  in  Kentucky, 
not  yet  blessed  with  the  benefits  of  martial  law;  then, 
when  McKinnon  was  beyond  reach,  sent  for  Benton. 
Of  course  he  did  not  see  the  Secretary.  A  placid, 


298  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

baa-lamb,  soft-spoken  staff  officer  had  been  told  what 
to  say.  Benton's  associations  had  been — ah — unfort 
unately  compromising,  and,  while  his  conduct  on  duty 
had  not  been  called  into  question,  at  a  time  of  such 
public  peril  the  Department  held  that  its  officers  should 
be  ah — be  above  suspicion,  or  at  least  show  a  disposition 
to  relieve  themselves  from  blame,  and  Captain  Benton's 
— ah — refusal  to  surrender  papers  confessedly  given  him 
by  a  Confederate  officer  had  added  much  to  the  gravity 
of  the  case  against  him.  "What  case?"  demanded 
Benton,  fiercely.  "  Well,  perhaps  that  was  putting  it 
rather — ah — strenuously,"  said  the  officer.  "  What  is 

meant "     "Oh,  damn  it!"  burst  in  Benton,  most 

improperly,  "  what  is  meant  is  that  you  know  I've 
been  accused  without  rhyme  and  reason — that  you  dare 
not  let  me  meet  my  accusers,  and  you  won't  give  me 
fair  hearing,"  and  for  this  inappropriate  outburst  he  de 
clined  to  apologize.  For  another  week,  therefore,  it 
looked  as  though,  after  all,  he  might  get  a  trial;  but  it 
ended  in  his  being  ordered  to  quit  Washington  forth 
with,  and  to  report  for  duty  to  his  old  general  at  York- 
town,  where  he  fumed  and  fretted  till  April,  when  sent 
to  Annapolis  with  prisoners.  Then,  a  battle  being  im 
minent,  he  was  permitted  to  report  to  the  general  com 
manding  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  thither  he  went, 
and,  so  far  as  the  battle  was  concerned,  might  better 
have  stayed  and  fought  it  out  in  the  rear,  for  his  corps 
was  held  in  leash,  had  little  to  do,  and  that  left  Benton 
more  savage  than  ever. 


GETTYSBURG  299 

In  heart,  in  pride,  in  spirit  he  had  been  sorely  hurt. 
In  heart  by  Rosalie  Chilton's  astounding  accusation  and 
the  impossibility  of  getting  the  faintest  explanation. 
After  her  impetuous  outburst  she  had  whirled  about  and 
rushed  to  the  waiting  carriage,  demanding  of  the  aston 
ished  major  that  he  take  her  at  once  to  the  boat  and, 
even  in  captivity,  it  seems,  her  imperial  highness  was 
wont  be  obeyed.  From  that  day  to  this  no  word  had 
come  from  her,  even  through  Elinor,  now  mournfully 
writing  that  poor  Mr.  Ladue  seemed  lapsing  into  passive 
imbecility,  happily  indifferent  to  any  fate  that  might  be 
fall  his  son,  and  Elinor  was  grieving  her  heart  out, 
though  she  would  not  say  it,  at  thought  of  Paul  still 
mured  in  military  prison. 

In  pride,  professionally,  Benton  had  been  stung  to  the 
quick;  for  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  so  much  of  his  heart 
had  gone  to  the  South,  his  duty,  his  sword,  his  spirit, 
mind  and  will  were  all  sworn  to  the  service  of  the  Union, 
and  most  faithfully,  even  brilliantly  at  times,  had  he  dis 
charged  himself  of  every  detail  entrusted  to  him.  It 
was  his  old  general  at  Yorktown  who  strove  to  set  him 
right,  who  had  urgently  written  in  his  behalf  to  officers 
at  court,  and,  when  there  seemed  no  prospect  of  stirring 
service  in  that  neighborhood,  had  suggested  his  transfer 
to  the  staff  of  a  fighting  division  at  the  front.  In  this 
way  had  the  order  been  obtained;  and  then,  on  his  join 
ing  at  army  headquarters,  Benton,  at  his  own  request, 
had  been  sent  to  duty  with  the  latest  commander  of  the 
old  division,  which  was  how  he  again  got  in  touch 


300  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

with  the  Black  Hats,  and  came  to  be  with  the  grand  old 
brigade  the  day  they  "  had  the  time  of  their  lives  "  in 
almost  desperate  battle  over  their  beloved  boomers,  the 
guns  of  Battery  "B."  Then  and  there,  most  heartily,  was 
the  right  to  full  fellowship  with  their  veteran  comrades 
accorded  the  Michigan  men.  Most  gloriously  was  it 
won.  From  this  time  on  Badger  and  Wolverine  stood 
on  the  same  plane. 

O  what  a  day  was  that  first  of  July ! — warm,  soft,  sun 
shiny,  the  roads  still  puddly  in  places  as  from  recent 
rains — no  dust  to  choke  the  hurrying  columns,  no  thick 
clay  mud  to  clog  the  wheels  or  load  the  worn  brogans. 
Through  the  radiant,  smiling,  peaceful  Pennsylvania 
country  side,  so  deep  a  contrast  to  battle-scarred  Vir 
ginia,  along  graded  roads,  past  pretty  cottage  home 
steads  and  wide  slopes  of  ripened  grain  and  tempting 
orchards  and  cattle-dotted  fields  and  fallows;  past  run 
ning  brooks  and  rock-bedded  streams,  whence  the  can 
teens  were  lifted  brimming  and  sparkling  with  fluid  sel 
dom  seen  in  the  runs  and  branches  that  gully  the  "  Sa 
cred  Soil,"  past  cool  spring  houses  and  darksome  wells 
where — the  one  black  feature  of  the  stirring  march — 
thrifty,  low  Dutch  farmers  stood  scowling,  exacting  trib 
ute  of  a  dime  a  dipper  from  the  thirsting  men,  and  so 
fattening  on  the  need  of  their  defenders.  Halting  now 
only  for  catnaps  by  the  roadside,  with  their  brave,  bril 
liant  Reynolds  ever  spurring  on  in  the  lead,  they  of  the 
First  Corps  swept  northward  in  the  wake  of  the  cavalry, 
listening  eagerly  for  the  distant  booming  that  should 


GETTYSBURG  301 

tell  that  Buford  had  fanged  the  quarry  and  was  holding 
on  till  they,  the  hunters,  should  come  to  give  the  coup 
de  grace. 

Even  before  the  earliest  sunbeams  came  glinting 
through  the  eastward  wood,  Reynolds  had  called  on  his 
men;  and,  rousing  from  their  bivouacs  along  the  Em- 
mittsburg  pike,  they  rolled  their  blankets;  swallowed 
their  steaming,  soldier  coffee;  formed  ranks  along  the 
roadside,  and  presently  went  tramping  away  northward 
between  moist,  smiling  fields  and  orchards,  heading  for 
the  distant  towers  and  steeples  of  the  quaint,  placid 
little  Pennsylvania  town,  nestling  between  the  wooded 
hills  that  seemed  to  hem  it  in.  Somewhere  up  that 
charming  valley  their  leaders  knew  John  Buford  to  be, 
for  he  and  his  sun-tanned  troopers  had  been  thrown 
ahead  to  cover  the  advance  and  find  the  army  of  Lee, 
well  known  by  this  time  to  be  concentrating  to  meet 
them. 

Years  and  experience  have  taught  the  leaders  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  something  of  the  true  use  of 
cavalry,  and  there  is  no  more  of  the  blind  groping  of  the 
old  days.  They  know  that  Longstreet's  whole  corps  is 
camping  about  Chambersburg,  across  the  South  Moun 
tain  range  to  the  west.  They  know  that  Hill  is  between 
him  and  Cashtown,  the  first  village  of  importance  to  the 
west  of  Gettysburg.  They  know  that  Swell's  foremost 
divisions  have  struck  the  line  of  the  Susquehanna,  only 
to  be  recalled  to  meet  the  spirited  northward  sweep  of 
Meade's  far-spreading  corps.  They  know  that  these 


302  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

men  of  Reynolds  lead  the  van  of  the  main  army,  and  will 
doubtless  be  the  first  to  reach  and  back  the  cavalry 
when  those  searching  horsemen  find  and  tackle  the  foe. 
What  they  do  not  know  is,  that  from  west,  northwest, 
north  and  northeast  these  converging  columns  are  all 
headed  for  that  same  little  Pennsylvania  town,  march 
ing  to  concentrate  on  Gettysburg,  and  that  this,  the 
First  Corps  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  is  destined 
within  three  hours  to  be  thrust  square  in  between  those 
swift-closing  jaws,  and  compelled,  as  Buford  says  to  his 
own  men,  to  u  fight  like  the  devil "  until  the  rest  of  the 
army  can  reach  it  in  support.  The  Eleventh  Corps  is 
not  far  behind  them;  the  Twelfth  is  away,  over  a  dozen 
miles  to  the  eastward,  along  the  Baltimore  pike;  the 
Fifth  and  Sixth  still  farther  to  the  southeast,  a  long 
day's  march  at  least;  the  Third  is  down  by  Taneytown, 
ten  miles  behind.  It  is  to  be  a  First  Corps  fight,  then, 
unless  the  Eleventh  can  help,  if  they  happen  to  run  foul 
of  Johnny  Reb  this  July  morning,  and  that  Johnny  is  near 
they  learn  from  Buford's  couriers,  galloping  back  with 
news  for  Meade.  A  whole  swarm  of  shoe-hunting  Con 
federates  had  come  through  Cashtown  the  day  before, 
bound  for  a  raid  on  the  Gettysburg  shops,  but  fell  back 
at  sight  of  an  apparition  in  the  valley  to  the  south — 
strong  squadrons  of  Union  Horse  trotting  up  the  Em- 
mittsburg  pike,  bent  on  being  first  at  the  fair.  Petti- 
grew,  Confederate  commander,  knows  his  slim  ranks  are 
no  match  in  point  of  numbers  for  Buford's  sturdy  dra 
goons,  backed  by  their  batteries  of  horse  artillery,  the 


GETTYSBURG  303 

pride  of  the  cavalry  corps,  and  wisely  he  waits  for  morn 
ing  and  the  support  of  Heth's  whole  division.  Then 
they'll  give  the  troopers  a  whirl  that  will  remind  them  of 
a  year  back  in  Virginia. 

In  far  better  fettle  and  discipline  is  Lee's  brave  army 
than  when  it  tried  the  conversion  of  Maryland  ten 
months  before.  Only  in  two  points  is  it  less  to  be 
feared — Stonewall  Jackson  is  dead  and  Stuart's  cavalry 
is  as  good,  or  bad,  as  lost.  For  once  in  his  life  that 
brilliant  and  daring  leader  of  Horse  is  of  no  use  to  his 
commander.  Through  some  error  of  judgment  he  has 
gone  far  to  the  east  and  has  been  cut  off  from  commu 
nication.  When  he  reaches  the  Susquehanna  he  finds 
Ewell  has  fled,  so  pushes  on  to  Carlisle  in  the  Cumber 
land  valley,  and  thus  for  two  long  days,  the  first  two 
days  of  the  great  and  decisive  battle  of  the  war,  he  and 
his  hard-riding  troopers  are  lost  to  Lee.  For  once 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  has  its  eyes  and  its  wits  at 
the  front  when  the  eyes,  at  least,  of  the  Army  of  Vir 
ginia  are  away  to  the  rear.  At  breakfast  time  in 
Gettysburg,  this  morn  of  the  first  of  July,  Heth's  di 
vision  of  A.  P.  Hill's  corps  of  the  Army  of  the  South 
comes  "  bulging "  ahead,  without  the  accustomed 
screen  of  cavalry  skirmishers,  and  is  brought  up  stand 
ing  by  the  challenge  of  Calef's  light  guns,  planted 
squarely  in  the  middle  of  the  Cashtown  pike,  and  the 
simultaneous  uprising  of  squadron  on  squadron  north 
and  south  of  the  road — Devin's  and  Gamble's  gallant 
brigades  of  famous  John  Buford's  division, — and  there, 
like  a  bull  dog  Buford  holds  them  two  mortal  hours, 


304  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

until  Reynolds,  with  his  foremost  men,  comes  spurring 
up  the  eastward  face  of  the  ridge,  joins  Buford  at  the  old 
Lutheran  Seminary,  and  notes  that  the  main  lines  of 
Heth's  Division,  north  and  south  of  the  pike,  are  just 
forming  for  advance  to  the  attack  in  force, — all  that  pre 
ceded  having  been  the  work  of  strong  skirmish  lines; — 
and  now  begins  in  grim  earnest  the  greatest  and  most 
momentous  battle  of  American  history. 

First  to  reach  the  field  in  support  of  Buford's  hard- 
fighting  Horse  is  the  First  Division  of  the  First  Corps 
of  the  old  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  the  first  brigade 
to  come  swarming  up  the  slope  is  led  by  old  graybeard 
Cutler,  whom  we  saw  at  the  head  of  the  Sixth  Wisconsin 
in  its  maiden  battle  on  the  Warrenton  pike,  while,  fol 
lowing  close  at  the  heels  of  the  foremost  and,  obedient 
to  Reynold's  orders,  breasting  the  height  to  the  south 
of  the  Seminary,  stride  the  five  battalions  of  the  Iron 
Brigade,  the  biggest  not  quite  five  hundred,  the  others 
barely  three  hundred  strong.  White-haired  Wadsworth 
rides  at  the  head  of  the  little  division.  That's  all  there 
is  of  it, — these  two  brigades,  led  by  those  two  far 
Western  brigadiers,  barring  the  batteries  that  ever  go 
with  them — but  the  blue-blooded  old  Gothamite  in  com 
mand  swears  he  wouldn't  swap  it,  small  as  it  is,  for  the 
strongest  division  in  the  whole  army — and  he  means  it. 

It  is  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten,  that  which  greets 
their  eyes  as  the  Black  Hats  come  popping  up  over  the 
ridge.  The  seminary  grounds  and  the  farm  enclosures 
along  the  line  of  heights  are  quite  thickly  wooded,  but, 
to  the  west  of  them,  the  fields  are  cleared  and  cultivated. 


GETTYSBURG  305 

Another  ridge,  not  quite  so  distinct,  rises  in  front  of 
them,  perhaps  five  hundred  yards  away,  and  the  two 
ridges  seem  to  converge  at  a  wooded  cone  to  the  north, 
Oak  Hill  they  call  it,  while  beyond  that  low  rise  to  the 
west  the  ground  falls  away  rapidly  into  the  valley  of  a 
swift  little  stream,  Willoughby  Run,  bordered  on  the 
east,  squarely  in  front  of  the  Iron  Brigade,  by  a  grove  of 
sturdy  young  trees,  the  only  screen  between  their  swift 
advance  and  the  long  line  of  forest  half  a  mile  away  to 
the  west,  stretching  north,  almost  to  the  Cashtown  pike, 
and  south  to  the  Hagerstown  road,  and  that  westward 
forest  is  all  alive  with  flashing  bayonets  aligned  on  the 
little  red  battle  flags,  the  division  of  Heth  in  battle  array, 
reaching  almost  from  pike  to  pike,  with  one  brigade 
thrown  out  "  in  the  air  "  to  the  north,  and  pushing  dar 
ingly  forward  to  sweep  the  stubborn  troopers,  fighting 
dismounted,  out  of  the  way.  It  is  barely  quarter  past 
ten,  as  Reynolds  for  the  last  time  looks  at  his  watch; bids 
Doubleday,  who  has  galloped  forward  for  orders,  to 
"  back  "  Wadsworth  at  the  seminary  and  extend  his  line 
to  the  right;  then,  calling  on  Meredith,  points  to  that 
forward  grove  at  the  brook  side,  "  Seize  it,"  he  says, 
"  before  the  rebels  can  reach  it!  "  Then  with  the  Sixth 
in  reserve,  with  a  full-lunged  shout  in  its  throat  and  fire 
in  its  eye,  the  old  brigade  breaks  into  a  run,  Fairchild 
with  the  Black  Hats  in  the  van — a  five-hundred-yard 
race  for  the  goal — field,  staff  and  commanders  cheer 
ing  them  on,  and  Reynolds — noble  Reynolds — spurring 
swift  in  the  lead,  riding  down  to  his  soldier  fate. 

20 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE   FIGHT    FOR   THE   GUNS 

Of  Heth's  division,  we  have  said,  are  these  at  the  front 
— fellows  that  never  yet  have  happened  to  "  sample  " 
this  Western  command — Heth's  division,  with  the  bri 
gades  of  Archer  and  Davis  in  the  foremost  line.  The 
former  has  started  his  Tennesseeans  down  the  slope, 
Alabama  supporting,  and  is  feeling  his  way  to  the  front, 
for  that  wood  looks  ominous.  Skirmishers  say  Gamble's 
dismounted  troopers,  who  have  held  it  two  hours  against 
their  best  shooting,  are  strengthened  now  by  infantry, 
thrown  forward  by  old  Cutler's  first  line,  which  can  be 
seen  stretching  out  over  the  pike,  relieving  Devin's  worn 
men,  and  letting  them  scurry  back  to  their  waiting 
horses.  But  Archer  sees  that  in  so  doing,  Cutler  has 
thrust  its  right  flank  "  into  the  air," — that  Davis,  with 
his  Mississippi  battalions,  is  sweeping  upon  and  around 
it,  and  is  already  in  turn  far  in  advance  of  his  own 
fellows;  so,  most  eagerly,  Archer  orders  forward,  for 
ward,  and  the  gray  lines  leap  at  the  word.  Beautifully 
the  battle  opens  for  the  cause  of  the  South.  Cutler's 
men,  in  their  eagerness  to  relieve  Buford's  thinned  and 
wearied  defense,  have  rushed  full  six  hundred  yards  out 
into  the  open,  and  Davis  catches  them  in  flank  with 


THE   FIGHT    FOR    THE    GUNS  307 

his  yelling  Southerners;  wheels  his  Mississippians  to 
their  right, — Cutler  barely  having  time  to  slip  his  skir 
mishers  out  of  the  clutch, — then  onward  come  the 
Johnnies,  full  tilt  for  the  guns  of  Hall,  unlimbered  in 
place  of  Calef,  on  the  Cashtown  pike.  Then  two  won 
derful  things  happen  and  two  new  feathers  go  to  the 
cap  of  the  Iron  Brigade. 

It  is  Fred  Benton's  luck  this  day  of  days  to  be  riding 
with  Reynolds  as  the  corps  commander  spurs  to  the 
front.  His  own  staff  is  scattered  all  over  the  field,  some 
gone  to  hurry  up  Howard  and  Sickles,  some  to  lead 
Doubleday's  brigade  through  the  tangle  of  lanes  at  the 
foot  of  the  ridge,  some  out  to  the  right  where  Cutler's 
New  Yorkers  are  most  sensibly  falling  back  toward  the 
ridge  at  the  rear.  So  Reynolds  has  borrowed  an  aide, 
and  Benton,  burning  with  joy  and  excitement,  rides  after 
him  into  the  grove,  just  in  time  to  see  Archer's  foremost 
line  come  gallantly  sweeping  down  the  opposite  slope, 
straight  at  the  shivering  wood,  for  under  their  volleys 
leaves  and  twigs  are  showering  the  heads  of  the  few 
defenders,  and  these  latter  are  nervously  squinting 
about  them  in  search  of  supports.  "Hang  on,  men! 
Keep  up  your  fire!  Meredith's  right  behind  you!" 
shouts  Reynolds,  as  he  darts  swiftly  in  among  the  trees. 
"  Hang  on,  men !  "  goes  the  word  from  center  to  flank, 
but  things  look  risky  out  there  to  the  right  where  Cut 
ler's  ranks  are  drifting  back,  and  the  crash  of  Mississippi 
volleys,  enfilading  the  front,  and  the  shells  shrieking 
from  the  slope  of  Oak  Hill  echo  the  volleys  of  Archer's 


308  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

quick-firing,  fast-coming  lines.  Through  the  thick  veil 
of  sulphur  smoke,  pierced  by  red  flashes,  grim  faces  are 
peering  square  into  the  wood,  and  eager  young  captains 
are  urging  onward  their  men,  and  in  all  the  crackle  of 
shots  and  the  hoarse-shouted  commands,  no  wonder 
they  hear  not  the  dull,  muffled  sound  of  the  dancing  foot 
falls,  as,  fourteen  hundred  strong,  the  charging  ranks  of 
the  Iron  Brigade  come  on  with  a  rush.  The  east  edge 
of  the  wood  is  reached  by  the  leaders  on  the  right  of  the 
line,  just  as  the  Southern  force  bursts  through  the  battle 
smoke  and  into  the  brook;  but  even  as  these  latter  reach 
the  wood,  and  Archer  is  cheering  them  forward,  he  is 
amazed  to  see  his  wing  reeling  back,  and  a  blue-capped, 
blue-bodied  human  wave  curving  round  the  southward 
end  of  the  straggling  timber,  rolling  over,  engulfing, 
sweeping  before  it  in  amaze  and  confusion — by  tens, 
twenties,  and  then  all  together — the  right  of  the  line. 
Before  he  can  issue  an  order  or  strengthen  a  single  bat 
talion,  Fairchild  and  the  Black  Hats  have  burst  through 
the  sheltering  grove  in  his  front,  and  sprung  like  tigers 
on  his  halted  and  astonished  line;  while  Badger,  Hoosier 
and  Wolverine,  swinging  round  him  from  the  south,  com 
plete  the  demolition  of  the  brigade.  He  and  his  men 
are  swamped  in  a  twinkling.  He  anft  half  his  force,  six 
hundred  at  least,  are  prisoners  of  war,  while  the  rest  are 
chased  to  the  rear  by  Meredith's  men.  First  facer  for 
Heth  as  he  glares  from  the  opposite  woods,  where  Petti- 
grew  and  Brockenbrough  are  aligned  in  support.  For 
him,  however,  there  is  comfort  to  the  north  of  the  pike, 


THE    FIGHT    FOR    THE    GUNS  309 

for  there  has  Davis  swept  the  field  and  is  bearing  down 
on  the  Union  guns.  Now  is  the  time  to  support  him, 
but  Wadsworth  is  too  quick.  Archer  disposed  of;  the 
Iron  Brigade  halted  and  reforming  under  Reynolds'sown 
eyes — in  grim  business  fashion,  too,  as  though  the  gath 
ering  in  of  six  hundred  Johnnies  was  not  much  of  an 
exploit — with  Meredith  fronted  now  to  stand  off  Heth, 
should  his  second  line  sweep  to  the  aid  of  the  first,  the 
general  commanding  turns  to  succor  the  right.  He  has 
seen  the  trouble  in  a  single  glance;  has  seen,  too,  the 
way  out  of  it;  and  as  Fowler,  with  the  old  Brooklyn 
Fourteenth, — they  that  kept  up  with  the  cavalry  on  the 
first  forced  march  to  Fredericksburg, — now  changes 
front  under  fierce  fire  and  faces  the  new  attack  from  the 
north,  Fred  Benton,  all  athrill  with  excitement,  goes 
spurring  over  to  where  the  Sixth  Wisconsin  stands  in 
reserve,  and  in  another  minute,  obedient  to  orders,  that 
stalwart  battalion,  at  his  charger's  heels,  is  "  double- 
quicking  "  away  over  the  fields  to  its  right  in  support 
of  the  men  from  the  City  of  Churches,  now  in  sore  need, 
for  those  lank  Mississippians  have  swept  forward  into 
the  long  cut  of  the  unfinished  railway,  and,  flat  on  their 
bellies  against  the  southward  slope,  are  pouring  their 
fire  into  Fowler's  men,  hoping  to  crush  them  as  they 
have  well  nigh  exterminated  Harney's  New  Yorkers — 
the  I47th — before  help  can  come. 

A  fatally  good  place  is  a  railway  cut  to  shelter  a  line, 
when  the  foe  stands  fast  and  contents  himself  simply 
with  shooting.  A  fatally  bad  place  it  is  when  the  foe 


310  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

won't  stand  at  bay,  but  comes  charging  full  tilt  in  spite 
of  the  fire,  and  that,  to  the  amaze  of  Davis,  is  just  what 
these  infamous  Badgers  are  doing  this  day.  With  an 
onward  rush  no  mere  muzzle  loaders  can  possibly  check 
when  firing  "  oblique,"  the  Sixth  comes  sprinting  down 
the  slope  from  the  southeast,  its  right  companies  swing 
ing  out,  so  as  to  sweep  the  cut  from  end  to  end,  taking 
the  Mississippians  in  turn  square  in  the  flank,  its  left 
striking  at  the  eastward  half  of  the  line,  and  between 
them,  almost  in  a  twinkling,  doubling  up  and  driving 
together,  huddled,  helpless,  sheep-like,  one  astonished 
battalion.  Then,  what  with  blazing  down  from  the 
southward  bank,  charging  home  from  the  eastward 
mouth,  driving  in  with  butt,  bayonet  and  brawny  arms, 
while  the  Brooklynites  rush,  cheering,  to  finish  the  work 
to  the  west,  Davis's  fighters  are  fairly  trapped.  Down 
go  the  red  battle-flags.  Down  go  the  rifles  in  answer 
to  shouts  of  surrender.  There's  nothing  else  left  them. 
They  can't  fight  where  they  are.  They  can't  force  their 
way  out  of  the  cut.  Some  dozen,  perhaps,  bending 
double  and  ducking,  manage  to  scurry  off  to  the  west. 
Some  few  crawl  back  to  their  fellow  battalions  to  the 
north,  but  General  Joe  Davis  has  lost  two  of  his  colors 
and  all  but  a  few  men  of  two  misguided  regiments; 
and  here,  too,  has  the  Iron  Brigade  done  more  than  its 
full  share.  Wadsworth  is  almost  weeping  with  joy 
at  the  sudden  stem  of  the  torrent  and  the  magnificent 
stand  of  his  little  division,  while  Doubleday,  seldom 
given  to  praise,  is  wringing  that  veteran's  hand  in  hearty 


THE   FIGHT   FOR   THE   GUNS  311 

fashion,  as  he  reins  in  a  moment  at  the  west  front  of  the 
seminary.  Doubleday's  own  men  now  are  fast  hurrying 
up  in  support  of  the  First  Division,  Rowley  and  Roy 
Stone  sending  in  their  brigades  straight  for  the  halted 
line  and  the  rescued  guns  to  the  north  and  along  the 
smoking  fringe  of  wood,  and  there  is  soldier  triumph 
mingled  with  no  little  anxiety,  as  these  war-tried  leaders 
scan  the  westward  fields  and  note  through  their  glasses 
the  long  columns  in  gray  stretching  far  back  toward  the 
horizon  and  along  the  Cashtown  pike,  all  telling  the 
coming  of  supporting  thousands.  Gladly  they  welcome 
the  sight  of  the  waving  colors  of  Howard's  corps,  press 
ing  northward  in  the  valley  behind  them,  and  Doubleday 
laughingly  greets  his  fellow  West  Pointer,  the  crest 
fallen  Archer,  just  brought  back  under  guard,  and  Roy 
Stone's  jubilant  voice  rings  out  the  watchword  of  the 
Second  Division,  "We've  come  to  stay,  boys!"  in  an 
swer  to  the  shout  of  the  Iron  Brigade,  "  Hold  the  woods 
to  the  last?  Where'll  you  find  men  to  do  it,  if  we  can't?" 
and  Private  Pat  Maloney,  "  G  "  Company,  of  the  Black 
Hats,  who  had  personally  nabbed  the  Confederate  briga 
dier,  gets  his  own  word  of  commendation  ere  he  goes 
back  to  his  own  gallant  death.  And  all  seems  hopeful, 
brave  and  buoyant  despite  the  heavy  losses  of  the  fore 
most  regiments  upon  the  field,  when  a  cavalry  officer 
comes  galloping  in  from  the  right,  whither  Devin's 
brigade  has  been  sent  to  guard  the  flank  of  the  line. 
"Where  is  General  Reynolds?"  he  asks.  "Whole  di 
visions  are  coming  there  to  the  north!"  Where,  in- 


312  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

deed,  is  General  Reynolds?  An  aide-de-camp  is  spur 
ring  at  swift  trot  through  the  maze  of  unlimbering 
batteries.  His  face  is  white,  his  lips  are  pale  beneath  the 
grimy  mustache.  Men  cease  their  excited  chatter  at 
sight  of  him,  but  he  has  word  for  none  until,  reaching  the 
little  group  where  stand  the  division  commanders,  he 
springs  from  his  saddle,  turns  loose  his  wearied  horse, 
and  they  read  ill  news  in  his  haggard  eyes  ere,  with 
soldier  salute,  he  briefly  says :  "  General  Doubleday,  you 
command,  sir — General  Reynolds  is  dead." 

Dead!  Shot  down  in  the  moment  of  triumph  and 
victory!  picked  off  by  a  sharpshooter  bent  on  aveng 
ing  the  facer  to  Heth ;  falling  stark  in  his  tracks,  without 
sign  or  sound;  killed  instantly,  never  knowing  probably 
whence  came  the  blow, — there  in  the  McPherson  wood 
lies  the  hero  of  heroes  of  this  first  day's  fight,  his  grief- 
stricken  officers  gathering  about  the  senseless  clay. 
Dazed  for  the  moment,  they  can  only  kneel,  these  men 
of  his  sorrowing  staff,  and  lift  the  grand  head  from  the 
ground  and  gaze  imploringly  into  the  sightless  eyes. 
All  effort  vain!  In  the  lull  of  the  fight  that  follows  the 
catastrophe  of  the  day,  they  bear  the  honored  body 
sadly  to  the  rear  and  place  it  in  the  waiting  ambulance 
at  the  Seminary.  Then  some  one  says  that  Howard 
must  be  told — that  he  is  the  senior  general  up  with  the 
army — and  Doubleday  orders  one  of  his  own  aides  to 
go  in  search  of  him.  At  10.30  all  was  triumph  and  re 
joicing  in  the  gallant  line  of  the  First  Division.  Cutler's 
men,  far  out  on  the  right,  were  cheering  "  Tommy  " 


THE    FIGHT    FOR    THE    GUNS  313 

Devin's  troopers,  and  being  cheered  in  return.  Down 
by  the  Run,  I^lack  Hats  and  Hoosiers  were  swapping 
chaff  and  congratulation  with  the  Wolverines,  but  a 
pall  has  dropped  on  the  smoking  field.  With  the  death 
of  their  heroic  leader  comes  the  turn  of  the  tide. 

Short  hours  of  respite  have  the  men  of  the  West. 
Heth  has  had  quite  enough  for  the  present.  With  four 
brigades  at  the  front  he  has  been  hurled  back  by  two, 
and  wisely  he  waits  for  the  coming  of  comrade  divisions, 
now  deploying  far  to  his  rear  and  slowly  advancing  to 
restore  the  day.  Nine  fresh  brigades  are  these  thus 
sighted,  as  the  midday  sun  beats  hotly  down  on  Double- 
day's  lines,  and  he  hasn't  a  man  to  send  in  support. 

And  now,  far  out  to  the  right  and  rear,  while  two  bri 
gades  of  Robinson's  Division  prolong  Cutler's  line  to 
ward  Oak  Hill,  the  boom  of  cannon  grows  incessant, 
and  signal  men  in  the  Seminary  tower  are  flagging  des 
perately.  More  men  are  needed!  More  men  are 
needed!  Howard's  corps,  the  Eleventh,  is  once  more, 
at  one  o'clock,  facing  the  very  same  veterans  that  swept 
it  from  the  field  at  Chancellorsville,  and  that  seem  bent 
on  doing  the  same  thing  here.  Leaving  Von  Steinwehr 
with  his  little  division  to  occupy  as  a  "  rallying  point  " 
the  heights  to  the  south  of  the  town — and  Howard 
seems  to  have  felt  it  in  his  bones  that  such  a  point  would 
be  needed — the  one-armed  general  has  pushed  on 
through  Gettysburg,  sent  Schurz  and  Barlow  out  to  the 
north,  with  orders  to  hold  Ewell  in  check — Ewell,  who  is 
bearing  down  upon  them  from  northwest,  north  and 


314  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

northeast,  from  the  Carlisle,  Harrisburg  and  York 
roads,  leading  Jackson's  old  Foot  Cavalry, — the  corps 
that  hardly  knows  what  it  is  to  stop  for  anything.  And 
now,  even  as  Doubleday's  thin  lines  are  bracing  for  the 
shock  of  Hill's  fresh  attack  and  the  westering  sun  be 
gins  to  shine  in  the  faces  of  the  men  that  so  superbly 
battled  through  the  morning,  and  Heth  is  gathering  up 
his  beaten  brigades  and  herding  them  into  the  sheltering 
woods  to  the  west  of  the  Run,  there  come  direful  tidings 
from  the  right  of  the  line,  yes,  even  the  right  rear,  that 
Schurz  is  losing  his  hold  on  the  northward  front; 
that  his  foreign-born,  foreign-bred  brigadiers  are  giving 
way  before  the  natives  sweeping  down  upon  them  in 
those  long  gray  lines.  Just  as  at  Chancellorsville,  one 
sturdy  O'hio  brigade — McLean's  command  now  led  by 
Ames — is  making  stanch  but  futile  stand  against  the 
onward  rush  of  Early  and  Gordon,  for  everything  in 
blue  between  them  and  the  right  of  the  First  Corps,  a 
mile  to  the  west,  is  going  adrift.  Every  command  in 
Schurz's  division  is  now  in  full  retreat.  In  yelling 
charge,  five  Georgia  battalions  have  burst  through  to 
the  left  of  the  Buckeye  line,  and  Dole's  brigade  is  now 
between  them  and  the  town.  Not  only  does  Ames  find 
that  he  must  fight  two  ways  at  once,  but  brigade  after 
brigade  is  now  pushing  for  that  huge  gap  in  the  Union 
line.  There  is  no  earthly  help  for  it,  the  right  flank 
of  the  hard-fighting  First  Corps  must  swing  back,  hing 
ing  on  the  left  of  Paul,  the  gallant  little  general  blinded 
for  life  by  a  single  bullet  as  he  gathers  in  his  sturdy  men. 


THE   FIGHT   FOR   THE    GUNS  315 

The  torrent  of  Ewell's  fierce  attack  has  breached  the 
flimsy  bulwark  of  Howard's  left  defense, — the  foreign 
legion, — and,  carrying  all  before  it,  is  sweeping  on,  re 
sistless,  toward  the  panic-stricken  town. 

Then  comes  the  crisis  of  the  day  for  the  men  of  the 
Iron  Brigade.  Nine  field  batteries,  unlimbered  on  the 
slope  beyond  the  Run,  are  shelling  the  westward  front 
of  Seminary  Ridge.  Nine  brigades  have  been  deployed 
'cross  country,  and  extending  far  to  the  north,  so  as  to 
join  hands  with  Ewell's  right  near  Oak  Hill,  and  far  to 
the  south  as  the  Hagerstown  road,  are  now,  at  three 
o'clock,  bearing  down  to  envelope  the  grim  "  stayers  " 
of  Doubleday.  Here,  about  the  McPherson  wood  where 
Reynolds  fell,  raging  old  Meredith  and  gallant  Roy 
Stone  hang  desperately  to  their  ground,  fighting  with  all 
the  mettle  there  is  in  them  and  their  indomitable  men. 
But  Roy  Stone  is  soon  terribly  wounded.  Wistar,  who 
springs  to  his  sword,  is  shot  in  the  face.  Meredith  is 
crushed  under  his  falling  horse.  Fairchild's  arm  is 
smashed  at  the  elbow;  and  Stevens,  his  lieutenant- 
colonel,  is  instantly  killed;  so  Mansfield,  the  major, 
takes  hold  of  the  Black  Hats.  Morrow,  heroic  colonel 
of  the  Wolverines,  with  every  one  of  his  field  and  staff 
officers,  sooner  or  later,  is  shot.  One  after  another 
five  Michigan  sergeants  are  killed  while  keeping  aloft 
the  sacred  colors.  Hoosiers,  too,  and  the  Seventh 
Wisconsin  are  fearfully  pelted.  Chapman  Biddle's 
brigade,  on  their  left,  is  hurled  back.  Baxter  is  fairly 
swamped  out  to  their  right,  and,  farther  still  to  the 


316  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

north,  Ramseur,  Rodes  and  O'Neal,  with  a  triumphant 
host  of  yelling  Confederates,  have  doubled  Robin 
son's  desperately  battling  division;  have  broken  its 
back  and  swept  its  fragments  away;  and,  with  despair 
in  his  heart,  Howard  realizes  that  the  day  is  lost,  that 
only  by  the  fiercest  righting  and  the  best  of  luck  can  he 
hope  to  save  the  remnant  of  Reynolds's  left  wing  that 
all  the  morning  held  so  grandly,  and  so  spurs  away  to 
Steinwehr  to  halt  and  reform  the  broken  Eleventh  at 
that  natural  line  of  defense  on  the  heights  to  the  south 
of  the  town,  leaving  to  Doubleday  the  stern  duty  of 
drawing  off  his  men. 

Then  it  is  that  the  Iron  Brigade,  still  clinging  to  the 
McPherson  wood,  gets  the  word  to  fall  back  to  its  right 
rear,  covering  the  Cashtown  pike.  There  it  is  that  their 
blessed  boomers  have  been  unlimbered,  and  under  "  old 
man  Stewart's  "  eye  are  still  blazing  defiance  at  the 
swinging  battle-flags  coming  triumphantly  forward 
down  the  road.  There  it  is  that  they  find  their  com 
rades  of  the  Sixth  Wisconsin  sternly  facing  the  coming 
storm  despite  the  fact  that  everything  seems  sweeping 
away  beyond  them;  and  Dawes,  their  acting  colonel, 
pointing  backward  into  the  low  ground,  shows  to  the 
brigade  commander's  astonished  gaze  that  even  Gettys 
burg  is  practically  lost,  and  through  that  town  lies  their 
line  of  retreat — the  only  way  to  save  those  precious 
guns. 

Four  o'clock,  and  still  the  batteries  of  Hall  and  Stew 
art,  with  three  hard-pounded  brigades,  hold  their  ground 


THE    FIGHT    FOR    THE    GUNS  317 

on  the  ridge,  while  the  valley  behind  them  is  fast  filling 
with  Ewell's  madly  exultant  men,  driving  Howard's 
beaten  divisions  before  them.  To  hang  on  longer  is 
simply  madness.  Beginning  at  the  right,  therefore, 
stern  and  silent,  the  devoted  brigades  give  ground 
slowly,  still  facing  the  foe,  still  firing  low  and  well. 
There  is  no  shaking  the  nerve  or  discipline  of  these  fel 
lows  of  Doubleday.  The  crush  comes  as  the  streams 
of  wounded  thicken  at  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  merg 
ing  with  the  fugitives  of  the  Eleventh  Corps,  and  the 
roads  and  streets  are  blocked  by  batteries,  ambulances, 
stray  caissons  and  ammunition  wagons,  all  in  full  re 
treat.  The  pinch  of  the  fight,  the  crowning  hour  of  the 
day,  the  bloodiest  battle  of  all  the  forty  hours  of  thrill 
ing  combat,  is  here  on  the  slope  to  the  north  of  the 
Seminary,  where,  from  the  teeth  of  the  foe,  from  the 
midst  of  their  slaughtered  horses,  the  men  of  the  West 
essay  to  drag  and  save  their  pets,  their  comrades  in 
every  fight  and  field,  the  black-mouthed,  smoking, 
heated,  still  thundering  guns  of  Battery  "  B." 

"  Limber  to  the  rear!  "  rings  the  order  at  last,  when 
half  the  horses,  at  least,  are  shot.  "  Limber  to  the 
rear !  "  echoes  the  order  along  the  pike,  where  three  of 
Hall's  guns  are  dismounted,  where  Stewart,  "  the  oft  dis 
tinguished,"  as  Doubleday  calls  him,  has  replaced  these 
by  three  of  his  own  under  his  junior  lieutenant  Davison; 
but  Davison,  after  sweeping  with  canister  Scales's  charg 
ing  "  Tarheels,"  is  shot  from  his  horse  and  borne  from 
the  field,  It's  all  up  with  those  guns  if  the  Badgers 


318  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

can't  save  them!  Two  caissons  are  smashed;  one  is 
blown  into  flinders,  and  as  many  brigades  as  Stewart 
has  guns  are  coming,  yelling  and  crowding  and  volley 
ing  up  the  slope.  Scales  is  hurling  his  North  Caro 
linians  on  Morrow's  bleeding  Wolverines,  and  Morrow 
himself,  while  waving  the  colors,  wrenched  from  the 
dying  grasp  of  the  seventh  bearer  shot  down,  is  him 
self  knocked  in  the  head  by  whizzing  bullet  and  dragged, 
raging,  from  the  thick  of  the  fight.  Davis  and  Daniel, 
— two  fighting  Southern  brigadiers  they, — are  riding 
madly  among  their  powder-stained  men;  driving  them 
on  in  the  face  of  those  stubborn  wild  Westerners;  point 
ing  their  swords  at  the  crippled  guns,  where  men  are 
straining  at  the  wheels  and  slashing  at  the  harness  of 
the  slaughtered  horses.  "Get  those  guns!"  shriek  the 
leaders.  "  Square  accounts  for  the  battle-flags  lost  in 
the  cut !  "  But,  between  the  surging  rush  of  Carolina, 
Mississippi  and  Georgia,  with  the  supporting  Virginians 
of  Brockenbrough  at  their  back,  and  that  battle-scarred 
battery  limping  slowly  away  down  the  pike,  there  still 
interposes  that  stern,  indomitable,  magnificent  line  in 
blue — all  that  is  left  of  the  Iron  Brigade — as,  front  to  the 
foe,  closing  ever  on  its  colors,  volleying  steadily,  defi 
antly,  unflinchingly  into  the  very  face  of  its  outnumber 
ing*  yet  respectful,  pursuers,  it  backs  away  over  the 
ridge,  leaving  over  a  third  of  its  membership  strewing 
its  tracks,  another  third  having  already  been  borne 
bleeding  away  toward  the  town,  and  so,  as  the  sun  goes 
down  on  the  tremendous  day,  so,  slowly,  steadily, 


THE    FIGHT    FOR    THE    GUNS  319 

wrapped  in  clouds  of  its  own  battle  smoke,  the  Western 
brigade  descends  to  the  plain,  the  Sixth  last  to  halt  in 
the  streets  of  the  town  and  to  cheer  to  the  echo  the 
cause  of  the  flag,  while  the  guns  once  more  unlimber, 
on  the  rise  of  Cemetery  Hill,  as  though  daring  the  foe- 
men  to  come  on  and  take  them.  No  wonder  the  Bad 
gers  grip  hands  with  the  Wolverines,  they  that  remain. 
Almost  five  hundred  the  Michigan  men  went  into  the 
fight  by  the  side  of  the  veterans.  Only  one  hundred 
are  left  in  line  when  at  last  the  day  is  done.  Fully  three 
hundred  have  been  shot  down  on  the  field;  some  few 
have  been  captured.  In  officers  alone  their  dead  out 
number  those  of  the  rest  of  the  brigade.  Of  the  Black 
Hats  surviving  there  stand  now  but  seventy. 

"And  they  might  have  cut  you  off  entirely /*  says 
Doubleday,  as  he  rides  among  the  remnants,  halting 
along  the  wooded  hillside,  east  of  their  rescued  guns. 
"  Buford  saw,  what  you  couldn't  see  through  the  smoke, 
that  two  brigades  were  >  sweeping  down  south  of  the 
Seminary  to  intercept  you.  He  formed  his  squadrons 
to  charge.  They  saw  it,  by  Jove !  and  halted  and  formed 
squares  to  resist  him,  and  that  saved  you.  Captain 
Benton,  I  wish  you  would  ride  over  and  present  my 
compliments  and  thanks  to  General  Buford.  He's  just 
moving  off  past  that  stone  farm-house  yonder  down  in 
the  valley."  And  so  ended  the  day. 


CHAPTER    XXV 
LADUE'S  LAST  RETREAT 

In  the  two  great  days  that  followed  there  was  little 
to  do  for  the  little  left  of  the  Iron  Brigade.  Planted 
by  Wadsworth  at  the  point  of  Gulp's  Hill,  it  grimly 
watched  the  movements  of  Ewell's  men,  its  old-time  an 
tagonists,  and  when  these  gentry  ventured  forth  to  feel 
their  opponents,  they  were  received  with  due  military 
honors  and  sent  back  satisfied  that  the  weak  point  of 
the  line  was  not  there.  Sore-hearted  over  the  loss  of 
so  many  cherished  comrades,  yet  confident  that  their 
valor  had  not  been  vain,  the  survivors  hung  silently  to 
their  assigned  position,  and  awaited  developments. 
Many, — most  of  them,  indeed, — slept  through  that  sum 
mer  night  like  wearied  children,  while  the  scattered 
corps,  far  to  the  south  and  southeast,  were  toiling 
through  the  soft  moonlight,  straining  every  nerve  to 
reach  the  field  in  time  to  meet  the  foe  on  the  morrow. 

And,  when  that  morrow  came,  Benton  was  early  in 
saddle  and  away  to  the  left  of  the  line  in  hopes  of  tid 
ings  of  their  headquarters  wagon — gone  astray,  as  such 
wagons  so  often  would,  with  the  mess  and  camp  kits  of 
the  general  and  the  staff,  and  as  Hancock's  Second 
Corps  came  trudging  in  past  the  Round  Tops  after  their 


LADUE'S  LAST  RETREAT  321 

all-night  march,  it  was  his  good  fortune  to  meet  two 
old-time  comrades,  soldiers  he  swore  by, — Carver,  now 
serving  with  Hancock,  "  the  superb,"  and  Haskell,  that 
prince  of  adjutants,  now  chief  of  division  staff — and 
through  them  he  heard  news  that  even  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  afternoon  and  the  tremendous  doings  of  the 
following  day,  kept  him  perturbed  in  mind  and  sorely 
troubled.  He  had  never  been  reconciled  to  his  treat 
ment  at  the  hands  of  the  Secretary.  He  had  never 
ceased  charing  in  spirit  over  the  wrongs  and  aspersions, 
as  he  persisted  in  regarding  them,  to  which  he  had  been 
subjected.  He  realized  that  under  existing  conditions 
nothing  more  than  half-hearted  acknowledgment  of 
error  could  be  looked  for,  but  he  had  determined  that 
the  moment  things  settled  down  and  the  Department 
had  time  to  attend  to  something  besides  the  momentous 
affairs  of  the  nation,  he  would  demand  justice  or,  as  he 
was  spunky  enough  to  say,  "  give  them  something  to 
pay  for  the  punishment  already  given  "  to  him.  Mean 
time  he  meant  so  to  conduct  himself  in  the  field  that 
there,  at  least,  he  should  stand  above  suspicion.  Then 
through  men  of  weight  he  might  secure  attention  to  his 
case.  And  now  both  Wadsworth  and  Doubleday  had 
spoken  in  heartiest  praise  of  his  behavior  throughout 
that  heroic  battle  of  the  first  day.  So  far  so  good. 
What  he  longed  for,  on  one  hand,  was  a  chance  to  square 
accounts  with  McKinnpn.  What  he  hoped  for,  on  an 
other,  was  opportunity  to  teach  that  disdainful  girl  how 
deeply  she  had  wronged,  as  well  as  affronted,  him.  Pas- 

21 


322  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

sionately  in  love  as  he  had  been,  it  was  a  new  experi 
ence,  or  he  could  never  have  persuaded  himself  in  his 
pride  and  anger  that  her  power  over  him  was  ended — 
that  her  queendom  was  gone. 

He  would  have  known  better  had  he  had  time  to  ana 
lyze  the  chagrin  and  pain  and  jealousy  which  possessed 
him  all  the  long  hours  that  followed  his  morning  talk 
with  these  staff  comrades  of  the  Second  Corps.  It 
seems  that  three  days  before,  on  the  2Qth  of  June,  while 
they  of  the  Second  were  pushing  cautiously  northward 
through  Maryland,  on  the  right  flank  of  the  army,  they 
were  made  aware  that  a  column  of  cavalry  was  passing 
around  them  from  the  south, — passing  between  them 
and  Washington, — and  that  while  they  were  swinging 
through  Uniontown,  across  a  little  branch  of  the  Mo- 
nocacy,  the  cavalry  were  trotting  through  Westminster, 
only  five  miles  from  their  flank.  "  Gregg's  Division,  of 
course/'  said  they  who  saw  through  glasses  the  far- 
distant  column.  "  Gregg,  not  much!  "  said  Haskell,  who 
had  ridden  out  toward  Union  Mills  on  a  scout  of  his 
own.  "  It's  Jeb  Stuart  with  his  whole  outfit  and  not 
a  little  of  ours.  He  must  have  been  helping  himself 
every  mile  of  his  way  from  the  Potomac."  And  this, 
indeed,  proved  to  be  the  case;  for,  as  they  lay  in  the 
fields  about  Uniontown  that  night,  there  reached  them 
a  rueful,  crestfallen  little  party  of  officers,  gathered  in 
by  Stuart  at  the  crossing  of  the  Baltimore  pike.  Two 
were  field  officers  who  from  convalescent  hospital  were 
striving  to  overtake  their  regiments;  the  third  was 


LADUE'S   LAST   RETREAT  333 

Major  McKinnon,  ordered  to  report  without  delay  to 
the  commanding  general,  Army  of  the  Potomac;  and 
McKinnon,  it  seems,  had  also  been  convalescing  in 
Baltimore,  but  not  from  wounds.  These  three,  with 
their  light  luggage,  had  been  pounced  upon  at  a  wayside 
tavern  by  a  roistering  troop  of  Stuart's  flankers,  and 
dragged  before  this  cavalry  commander,  who,  seated 
on  the  porch  of  a  pretty  homestead  in  the  heart  of  the 
village,  was  watching  his  booty-laden  columns  as  they 
jogged  on  northward,  and  receiving  the  reports  of  m's 
scouts.  One  of  these  parties  presented  the  three  cap 
tured  officers  just  as  another,  represented  by  an  eager 
subaltern,  was  finishing  his  description  of  the  Union 
force  about  Uniontown.  At  a  gesture  from  Stuart,  the 
young  officer  ceased  and  stood  in  silence  as,  very  cour 
teously,  Stuart  invited  his  captives  to  be  seated  while  an 
aide  took  their  names,  regiments,  etc.,  and  as  McKinnon 
gave  his  there  was  sudden  sensation.  The  young  cav 
alryman  sprang  forward,  seized  McKinnon's  hand, 
shook  it  effusively,  and,  to  the  amaze  of  every  one  pres 
ent,  exclaimed :  "  General  Stuart,  I  am  sure,  sir,  you  will 
treat  this  gentleman  with  every  possible  consideration. 
It  was  he,  sir,  who  so  nobly  defended  my  father  at 
Washington  when  Secretary  Stanton  would  have  sent 
him  to  Fort  Warren — and  Rosalie,  too,  for  that  matter. 
It  was  Major  McKinnon,  sir,  who  pleaded  their  cause 
with  the  Secretary  and  had.  them  returned  to  Charlottes- 
ville.  It  was  he,  sir,  who  in  other  ways  most  generously 
aided  them." 


324  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Jack,"  said  the  bearded  general, 
evidently  warming  toward  the  Westerner  who  had  so 
befriended  his  kith  and  kin.  "  Of  course  you're — sure 
of  it?" 

"Sure  of  it,  sir? — I  had  it  from  father  and  Rosalie 
both!  They  had  supposed  that  they  were  indebted — 
or  rather  that  their  helper  was  a  very  different  person, 
a  man  whom  they  had  befriended;  but  that  all  turned 
out  to  be  an  error."  And  the  upshot  of  it  all  was,  said 
Haskell,  "  that  Stuart  sent  the  three  to  our  lines,  es 
corted  by  Captain  Winston,  the  two  other  officers  pa 
roled  until  exchanged,  but  McKinnon,  by  Jove,  released 
with  Stuart's  compliments,  and  it's  my  candid  belief, 
damn  him,  that  Mac  would  a  heap  rather  be  in  Wash 
ington  on  parole  than  out  here  on  duty.  Shouldn't 
wonder  if  Stuart  took  his  measure  before  he  let  him 
slide."  Manifestly  Haskell  didn't  fancy  McKinnon. 

One  thing  for  Benton  to  ponder  over,  therefore,  was 
the  question  how  on  earth  had  McKinnon  in  so  short 
a  time  been  able,  even  though  he  had  the  run  of  the 
house,  to  persuade  that  usually  clear-sighted  girl  to  the 
belief  that  he  had  used  such  powerful  influence  in  their 
behalf,  and  was  really  their  lavish  benefactor. 

But  there  was  still  another  thing  to  add  to  his  chagrin 
and  perplexity.  There  had  been  little  conference  be 
tween  McKinnon  and  the  two  Badger  staff  officers — 
both  knew  and  neither  trusted  him — but  Colonel  Ken- 
nard,  one  of  the  paroled  pair,  talked  frankly  with  them, 
told  all  he  had  seen  of  Stuart  and  his  devil-may-care 


LADUB'S    LAST    RETREAT  325 

command,  and  much  about  this  young  Confederate  offi 
cer — Chilton,  "  Because,"  said  Kennard,  "  I  heard  Chil- 
ton  say  to  McKinnon  he  was  praying  that  he  might  yet 
meet  Captain  Benton.  There  was  a  Union  man  he'd 
shoot  on  sight!  And  Winston  said  Amen!"  "  Now, 
Fred,"  said  Haskell,  as  he  called  for  his  horse,  "  I've 
got  to  ride  the  lines  and  get  the  reports;  but,  we've  got 
McKinnon  up  with  the  army  at  last,  and  soon  as  we're 
through  with  this  business,  we'll  nail  him."  But  evi 
dently  it  was  business  first  in  Haskell's  eyes. 

So  between  being  in  Stanton's  bad  books  and  those 
of  these  young  Virginia  gallants  and  of  Rosalie  herself, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  Fred  Benton  felt  all  the  fates 
were  against  him.  He  had  two  burning  desires  as,  to 
ward  nine  o'clock,  he  threaded  his  way  through  the 
swarm  of  arriving  batteries, — men  and  horses  looking 
worn  and  haggard  after  the  all-night  march, — and  rode 
slowly  back  to  Wadsworth:  one  was  to  meet  McKin 
non  and  brand  him  as  the  author  of  the  slanders  that 
had  so  marred  his  prospects,  personal  and  professional; 
the  other  was  in  some  way  to  wring  from  Chilton  an 
explanation  of  his  violent  threat.  It  would  certainly 
throw  light  on  the  cause  of  Rosalie's  furious  denuncia 
tion.  Little  did  he  dream  how  soon  he  should  be  spared 
the  need — and  through  what  sad,  strange  circumstance. 

All  America  knows  the  main  story  of  that  second 
day's  grapple  when,  but  for  Warren's  generalship  and 
the  heroism  of  Weed,  Vincent  and  their  fellows  of  the 
Fifth  Corps,  the  fierce  fighters  of  Hood  would  have 


326  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

gained  their  lodgment  on  the  Round  Tops  and  the  en 
filade  of  the  Union  line.  That,  like  Pickett's  tremen 
dous  assault  on  the  third  day,  overshadowed  everything 
occurring  at  the  flanks.  But  for  this  there  were  deeds 
done  along  the  stony,  wooded,  northward  slope  of 
Gulp's,  and  far  out  in  the  open  fields  beyond  Wolf  Hill, 
that  would  be  ringing  in  song  and  story  to  this  very  day, 
for  Ewell  made  desperate  attempt  to  gain  the  heights 
and  the  Baltimore  pike  behind  them;  and  Stuart,  miss 
ing  until  after  sundown  of  the  second  day,  strove  as  hard 
to  make  up  for  lost  time  in  his  splendidly  conceived 
cavalry  dash  on  our  right  and  rear,  just  as  Pickett  led  his 
mighty  Virginians  to  wedge  the  Union  center — the 
grand  crowning  effort  of  the  closing  day.  Had  Ewell 
won  the  heights,  Gettysburg  would  have  been  written 
in  the  catalogue  of  disaster.  Had  Stuart  swept  in 
among  the  ammunition  trains,  battery  wagons,  field 
hospitals  and  reserves  at  the  rear  while  Pickett  was 
piercing  the  front,  nothing  could  have  restored  the  field. 
But  again  the  tide  had  turned.  Ewell  left  scores  of  his 
best  and  bravest  under  the  muzzles  of  the  Springfields 
along  the  boulder-strewn  slope.  Stuart  was  snared  and 
trapped,  engulfed,  overwhelmed,  and  finally  swept  bodily 
from  the  field,  never  again  to  charge  on  Northern  soil. 
Between  the  twilight  of  the  second  of  July  that  wit 
nessed  Swell's  bloody  assault  and  the  dawning  of  that 
black  Friday  of  the  Lost  Cause — the  third  day — some 
thing  had  happened  to  give  new  heart  to  Jackson's  old 
men.  The  "  Stonewall  "  brigade  was  there  still,  almost 


LADUE'S   LAST    RETREAT  327 

at  the  extreme  point  of  the  long  fish-hook  of  the  Con 
federate  line,  lurking  in  the  woods  down  in  the  low 
ground  between  the  rocky  point,  where  crouched  the 
survivors  of  Wadsworth's  division,  and  the  forest-cov 
ered  heights  off  to  the  eastward,  where  cavalry  guidons 
— Union  cavalry — had  been  flashing  in  the  last  rays  of 
the  setting  sun.  Somewhere  out  in  the  dim  fields  to 
the  north  and  northeast  there  was  stir  and  excitement 
even  in  the  wearied  bivouacs  of  Ewell;  and,  under  the 
starlight,  eager  to  satisfy  his  general's  restless  desire  to 
know  what  it  all  meant,  Fred  Benton  had  crept  out  to 
the  front,  taking  a  leaf  from  Haskell's  primer,  and  hop 
ing  for  a  side  scout  of  his  own.  But  everywhere  he 
found  the  same  conditions:  whispering  officers,  com 
manding  the  foremost  line,  pointed  out  that  they  were 
bent  back  like  a  hoop,  connecting  with  the  left  of 
Greene's  division  of  the  Twelfth  Corps,  and  that,  as 
though  in  a  ring,  the  defenders  of  the  hill  were  utterly 
hemmed  in,  save  to  the  southwest,  by  lines  of  unseen, 
wary,  vigilant  Johnnies,  for  every  man  that  ventured 
down  in  hopes  of  filling  his  canteen  at  the  running 
stream  at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  had  failed  to  return. 
They  were  nearly  surrounded,  yet  safe  so  long  as  they 
stayed  where  they  were.  Early  was  planning,  evidently, 
an  assault  at  dawn. 

By  half-past  ten,  however,  comparative  silence  reigned 
at  the  right  flank.  The  famous  conference — Meade  with 
his  corps  commanders — had  been  held  in  the  Leisler 
farm-house  in  rear  of  the  center.  The  word  had  gone 


328  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

the  rounds,  to  the  joy  of  every  soldier  heart,  that  the 
new  commander  meant  to  stand  and  fight,  and  if  Lee 
could  muster  no  more  men  than  these  already  thrown 
in,  he  might  hammer  the  lines  in  vain.  They  did  not 
know,  perhaps,  that,  away  over  in  the  woods  back  of 
Willoughby  Run,  Heth's  whole  division  was  still  nurs 
ing  the  wounds  received  in  the  first  day's  battle  but 
would  be  ready  on  the  morrow,  and  that  Pickett's  mag 
nificent  command  of  Virginians  would  all  be  there  to 
strengthen  the  lines  to  .the  west.  Now,  if  only  Stuart 
and  his  pet  brigades  would  but  stay  lost,  so  that  no  fear 
need  be  felt  for  the  far  right  flank,  all  would  indeed  be 
well! 

But  would  Stuart  stay  lost?  Could  he  have  got 
so  far  away  as  not  to  be  found  and  by  this  time  returned 
to  the  army;  and  when  he  came,  would  it  not  be  from 
the  north,  and  thus  bring  him  in  on  the  very  flank  they 
were  now  defending?  Tired  as  he  was  Benton  could 
not  sleep  for  thinking  of  the  disclosures  made  through 
Haskell.  Twice  he  had  crawled  from  his  grassy  bed, 
underneath  an  ambulance,  and  gone  out  along  the  front, 
crouching  among  the  watchful  pickets.  There  was  no 
change  in  conditions,  they  whispered.  The  slopes  were 
still  covered  with  the  lurking  enemy,  though  no  moving 
thing  could  be  seen.  Toward  half-past  two  a  staff  offi 
cer  from  Meade  stumbled  in  and  roused  the  general — 
wanted  to  know  if  anything  had  been  heard  of  large 
bodies  of  cavalry  out  to  the  north,  and  Wadsworth  was 


LADUE'S   LAST   RETREAT 


compelled  to  report  that  it  had  been  found  impossible 
to  ascertain. 

But,  when  the  aide  left,  Benton  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  Alone  and  afoot,  after  a  word  with  his  gray- 
haired  chief,  he  slipped  out  of  the  circle  and  away  to  the 
Baltimore  pike.  This  he  followed  southeasterly  nearly 
half  a  mile,  greeted  occasionally  by  low-toned  challenge 
of  sentry;  but  other  officers  were  hurrying  swiftly  to  and 
fro,  and  there  was  little  detention.  As  early  as  three 
o'clock  he  found  himself  following  a  patrol  down  a  rocky 
pathway  toward  the  creek,  and,  learning  from  outlying 
sentry  there  that  no  force  seemed  to  be  in  his  immediate 
front — only  a  few  pickets, — Benton  explained  that  he 
wished  to  crawl  out  far  enough  to  be  beyond  the  sound 
of  trampling  hoof  and  rumbling  wheel  at  the  pike,  that 
he  might  listen  the  better.  The  sentries  demurred,  but 
finally  decided  to  take  the  chances  and  let  him  go.  And, 
creeping  from  bush  to  bush  to  avoid  the  moonlit  spaces, 
less  than  half  an  hour  before  the  dawn  he  had  succeeded 
in  gaining  fully  four  hundred  yards  out  toward  the 
northeast,  and  there  low  voices  warned  him  to  lie  still 
and  listen.  He  was  either  on  or  within  the  Confederate 
picket  line,  and  had  much  to  learn  and  little  time. 

And  then,  hardly  breathing,  as  he  crouched  close  to 
the  trunk  of  a  spreading  tree,  somewhere  among  the 
leafy  shades  along  the  slopes  of  Wolf  Hill  a  whip-poor- 
will  began  his  farewell  hymn  to  the  flitting  night  and, 
just  as  on  that  April  morning  among  the  heights  of  the 
Hedgeman,  faint  and  sweet,  soft  yet  stirring,  so  far  out 


330  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

to  the  north  that  the  performer  doubtless  thought  it  be 
yond  the  range  of  inimical  ears,  a  cavalry  trumpet  began 
to  sound  the  martial  reveille,  stilling  the  mournful  plaint 
of  the  feathered  herald  of  the  dawn,  and  stirring  some 
nearby  watcher  to  instant,  even  profane,  remonstrance. 
"  Damn  that  infernal  dash-dashed  idiot,"  stormed  a  low, 
half-choked  voice.  "  He'll  tell  the  whole  dash-dashed 
Yankee  army  our  fellows  have  come!  Go  back  there, 
sergeant,  and  tell  our  trumpeter  if  he  dares  to  toot  a 
horn  I'll  murder  him." 

Then  somebody  rustled  off  through  the  bushes,  and 
somebody  else  spoke.  "  Some  of  Hampton's  crowd,  I 
reckon.  How  long'd  the  general  want  us  to  stay  out 
hyuh?" 

"  Till  Ewell  attacks  at  dawn.  Then  we'll  mount  and 
look  out  for  Gregg.  His  people  are  out  here  to  the 
east  of  us.  Stuart'll  get  after  them,  you  bet,  as  soon 
as  it's  light." 

"We  haven't  got  a  horse  that  can  more'n  stagger. 
All  worn  out,  I  tell  you,"  protested  the  second  voice. 

"  No  more'n  theirs  are.  Jennings  met  us  back  there 
on  the  Hanover  pike,  and  I  heard  him  tell  Fitz  Lee 
Gregg's  horses  were  all  played  out " 

"  Jennings  be  damned!  "  broke  in  a  third  voice,  im 
petuously,  and  Benton  started  at  the  sound.  It  was 
Chilton's  beyond  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Chilton  again 
with  his  old  regiment,  and  these  with  him  were  doubt 
less  officers  of  Fitz  Lee's  brigade,  scouting,  probably, 
well  in  front  of  the  cavalry  lines,  yet  proving  that  Stuart 


LADUE'S   LAST   RETREAT  331 

was  there  at  last,  and  could  be  counted  on  to  make 
things  lively  in  the  morning.  And  Jack  disapproved  of 
Jennings,  did  he  ?  Small  blame  to  him !  And  Jennings 
was  way  up  here  in  Pennsylvania,  playing  informant  for 
both  forces  again,  and  doubtless  getting  big  pay  from 
ours !  It  was  high  time  to  slip  back  and  give  warning, 
but  getting  back  was  slow  and  tedious, — even  perilous 
work.  The  dawn  was  breaking  when,  in  bedraggled 
garb,  Benton  made  his  way  across  the  plateau  to  the 
farm-house  on  the  Taneytown  road,  where  officers  and 
orderlies  were  thickly  grouped,  and  where  he  found  his 
own  gray-headed  general  in  the  circle  about  the  com 
mander.  Before  Benton  had  time  to  whisper  half  his 
explanation,  Wadsworth's  tired  eyes  flamed  with  eager 
light. 

"  Here's  the  very  news  to  prove  it,  General ! "  he 
cried.  "  Captain  Benton,  of  my  staff,  is  just  in  from 
that  front.  Stuart  is  there  and  Ewell  means  to  at 
tack " 

"  How  do  you  know  Stuart  is  there  ? "  demanded 
Meade,  whirling  sharply  on  the  young  officer.  The 
most  courteous  and  polished  of  gentlemen  at  other 
times,  Meade  was  irascible  in  the  extreme  in  battle. 

"  I  heard  voices,  sir, — one  that  I  well  knew,  an  officer 
of  the  First  Virginia, — heard  them  say  that  Fitz  Lee 
was  there,  and  that  Stuart  would  settle  Gregg,  and  that 

Ewell  would  attack  at  dawn "  But  even  as  he  spoke 

came  confirmation  of  his  words.  In  the  dim  light  of  the 
dawn,  the  guns  of  Greene  and  Geary  had  suddenly 


332  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

opened  on  shadowy  gray  lines,  issuing  from  the  opposite 
woods,  and  Wadsworth  sprang  for  his  horse.  But  the 
commander  signalled  Benton  to  remain.  "  You  have 
done  a  gallant  deed,  Captain,  and  have  brought  me  most 
valuable  information,"  were  his  words  a  moment  later; 
"  It  shall  not  be  forgotten." 

Yet  Benton  was  surprised  late  that  afternoon  when, 
after  the  din  of  the  most  terrific  cannonade  ever  heard 
on  this  continent,  and,  after  daring  and  determined  at 
tack,  Pickett,  Ewell  and  Stuart  all  had  been  repulsed, 
— Pickett  with  dreadful  loss, — there  came  a  message 
summoning  the  aide-de-camp  to  Meade's  headquarters. 
He  was  faint  with  the  fearsome  sights  encountered  on 
the  way,  for  all  the  field  was  one  vast  hospital.  A  sym 
pathetic  staff  officer  gave  him  a  nip  from  his  flask,  and 
then  pointed  to  where  a  little  group  of  prisoners  were 
gathered  back  of  the  farm-house.  Several  were  slightly 
wounded.  All  were  sad  and  weary,  but  there  was  none 
he  knew.  An  orderly  led  him  toward  a  rude  wagon- 
shed  beneath  which  knelt  four  officers,  surrounding  a 
prostrate  figure.  "  He  asked  for  you,"  said  a  surgeon, 
briefly,  and  one  glance  at  the  face  of  the  stricken  soldier 
was  enough.  Never  heeding  the  others  of  the  group, — 
never  even  seeing  them, — with  a  cry,  half  stifled,  of 
mingled  anguish  and  amaze,  Benton  threw  himself  on 
his  knees,  and  clasped  the  cold,  nerveless  hand,  feebly 
lifted  to  greet  him.  The  failing  eyes  lighted  up  one 
moment  in  love,  recognition  and  relief,  then  closed  in 
agony,  as  a  spasm  of  dreadful  torment  seized  the  fragile 


Benton  thrust  his  left  arm 

under  the  fallen  head. — Page  333. 


LADUB'S   LAST   RETREAT  333 

form.  "  Paul — Paul — my  God !  "  was  all  that  Benton 
could  murmur,  for  a  great  sob  choked  his  utterance, 
and  a  surgeon  hurriedly  brushed  before  him  and  held 
a  little  silver  cup  to  the  twitching  lips  of  his  patient. 
"  Mortal,  yes,"  was  his  whisper,  as  the  poor  lad,  ex 
hausted,  lay  for  a  moment  in  a  deathlike  swoon.  Then 
the  stimulant  seemed  to  revive  him  a  bit.  The  dark 
eyes  slowly  opened  and  fixed  on  Benton's  quivering 
face.  A  flicker  of  setting  sunbeam,  breaking  through 
the  smoke  still  drifting  over  the  field,  threw  for  an  in 
stant  almost  a  halo  of  rosy  light  about  the  dark,  damp 
hair,  and  gave  a  touch  of  warmth  to  the  sweet,  yet  pite 
ous  little  smile  that  played,  oh,  so  short  a  moment,  about 
the  almost  girlish  lips,  and  then  they  moved :  "  Bless 
you,  old  boy !  " — and  every  whisper  seemed  to  come 
with  a  gasp — "  I  heard — I  knew — you'd  never  give  up 
her  letters.  Where's — McKinnon?"  And  here  the 
poor  lad  seemed  drifting  away  again.  Benton  thrust 
his  left  arm  under  the  fallen  head  and  strove  to  raise  it, 
while  once  more  the  surgeon  placed  the  cup  to  the 
parted  lips;  and,  noting  the  name,  a  staff  officer  turned 
quickly  and  said  a  word  to  a  waiting  soldier.  It  was 
another  minute  before  the  swooning  lad  reopened  his 
eyes.  The  end  was  swift  coming,  for  their  light  had 
fled.  Two  other  forms  had  joined  the  silent  group,  un 
covering  in  the  awful  presence.  But  Benton  saw  noth 
ing  but  the  loved  face — heard  nothing  but  the  labored 
breathing  of  his  friend  and  comrade  whose  young  life 
had  known  such  cruel  sorrows,  whose  early  death  was 


334  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

so  surely  due  to  the  malign  influences  that  had  turned 
him,  all  unwilling,  against  the  flag  that  once  at  least  he 
had  loved  so  loyally.  And  now,  in  spite  of  soldier  reso 
lution,  big  tears  fell  from  Benton's  brimming  eyes  and 
plashed  on  the  fragile  hand  still  fondly  clasped  in  his 
own.  It  seemed  to  rouse  the  dying  boy.  He  looked 
yearningly  up  into  the  face  of  his  sorrowing  friend,  just 
as  somewhere  down  the  field  to  the  south,  noting  the 
disappearing  sun,  some  bugler  had  softly  begun  to  play, 
slowly  and  solemnly,  the  vesper  hymn  of  the  army,  the 
salute  to  the  departing  day,  the  soldier  signal  to  repair 
to  quarters  and  to  set  the  watchers  for  the  night — the 
stately  call  known  the  wide  world  over  as  the  "  retreat." 

One  moment  poor  Paul  seemed  to  listen,  his  breath 
coming  fast  and  painfully ;  then  some  one,  well  meaning, 
yet  mistaken,  bent  and  questioned :  "  You  asked  for 
Major  McKinnon.  Did  you  wish  to  speak " 

"  McKinnon  !  "  whispered  Paul.  "  McKinnon?  "  and 
now  a  shudder  seemed  to  seize  the  wasting  form.  "  Tell 
him  for  me  I  know  he  stole  my  letters.  Tell  him  I  told 
Rosalie — every  word  he  said  of  you  was  a  cowardly — 
lie." 

And  not  until  the  dead  hand  in  his  was  cold  and  stif 
fening  did  Benton  know  what  caused  the  strange  move 
ment  and  sensation  in  that  silent,  awe-stricken  group  as 
Ladue's  last  words  were  spoken.  Almost  inaudible, 
they  had  reached  the  straining  ears  of  four  who  bent 
to  listen,  and  of  one  who,  standing,  would  gladly  have 
been  deaf  to  them. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

WHAT   A    LETTER    REVEALED 

Once  again  had  Lee's  valiant  army  slowly  retired  to 
the  Potomac  and  leisurely  recrossed,  superb  even  in  de 
feat.  Just  as  after  Antietam,  the  cabinet,  the  committee 
on  the  conduct  of  the  war  (that  remarkable  annex  to  our 
military  system)  and  countless  critics  all  over  the  North, 
stormed  at  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  because  it  seemed 
to  follow  at  respectful  distance,  content  to  let  the  erring 
brethren  go  in  peace.  The  man  who  felt  it  most  that 
the  beaten  enemy  should  again  succeed  in  getting  away 
was  the  one  who  said  the  least — Lincoln  had  no  rebuke 
for  Meade  who,  smarting  and  sensitive  under  the  lash 
of  Halleck  and  Stanton,  asked  in  his  turn  to  be  relieved 
of  that  vexatious  command,  but  could  not  be  accom 
modated.  "The  plum  was  so  ripe,"  was  all  that  the 
patient  President  could  say,  "  it  seemed  a  pity  not  to 
seize  it."  But  no  one  save  those  that  tried  it  knew  the 
cost  of  seizing  Confederate  plums.  Stern  and  defiant 
the  disciplined  ranks  in  gray  turned  and  faced  every  es 
say  to  moiest  them,  and  another  winter  closed  in  on  the 
armies  in  Virginia,  with  the  same  old  stream — the  Rapi- 
dan — for  their  dividing  line. 

For  a  time  the  tide  of  war  swept  to  other  fields,  and 


336  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

all  eyes  were  focused  on  the  West.  Matters  in  the  im 
mediate  front  of  Washington  seemed  to  stagnate,  while 
within  they  seethed.  A  curious  state  of  affairs  existed, 
a  condition  of  divided  responsibilities  that  resulted  in 
Lee's  being  allowed  to  detach  a  third  of  his  force  under 
Longstreet  to  help  crush  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland 
at  Chickamauga,  and  so  set  us  back  another  six  months 
on  the  road  to  victory.  Then  came  the  final  resolution 
of  the  great  War  President,  that  as  he  and  Halleck  and 
Stanton  had  long  tried,  without  success,  the  business  of 
"  bossing  "  armies  in  the  field,  it  was  time  to  turn  the 
whole  thing  over  to  a  single  stage  manager.  Then  came 
Grant  and  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

Meantime,  'how  fared  it  with  Fred  Benton  and  his 
fellow  workers  in  the  war  drama  ?  Gettysburg,  with  all 
its  solemn  triumph,  had  left  them  sore  at  heart.  The 
old  brigade  had  trudged  back  to  its  former  fields  along 
the  Rappahannock,  bereft  of  many  a  loved  and  honored 
comrade,  and  in  the  relic  of  one  regiment,  at  least,  there 
was  genuine  sorrow  over  the  death  of  him  who  wore 
the  gray.  There  was  comfort  in  the  Sixth  that  it  was  in 
front  of  Geary's  line,  not  theirs,  that  Ewell's  fated  young 
aide-de-camp  should  meet  his  mortal  wounds.  There 
were  eyes  that  blinked  beneath  the  worn  visors  of  the 
caps  of  faded  blue,  in  sympathy  with  the  grief  in  Ben- 
ton's  haggard  face.  All  that  was  mortal  of  Paul  Ladue 
they  laid  away  on  the  bank  of  the  little  stream  by  which 
he  fell, — soldiers  of  the  Sixth  his  pall-bearers,  officers 
and  men  his  mourners,  and  the  Montgomerys  from  the 


WHAT    A    LETTER    REVEALED  337 

old  home  city,  his  funeral  escort,  though  they  could 
hardly  muster  a  squad.  The  few  papers  and  memo 
randa  in  his  possession,  his  watch  and  forage-cap  and 
sword,  were  placed  in  Benton's  charge — Benton  who  had 
stooped  and  kissed  the  peaceful,  up-turned  face  ere  they 
lowered  it  from  sight  of  all,  and  had  reverently  clipped 
away  a  lock  of  the  dark,  wavy  hair  for  that  anxious- 
hearted  girl  at  home,  praying,  all  unconscious  of  her 
new  sorrow.  The  three  volleys  flashed  over  the  slender, 
wasted  form.  No  soldier  honors  were  omitted  because 
of  the  garb  he  wore.  They  knew  well  that  but  for  the 
treachery  of  one,  and  the  unreasoning  violence  of  others 
of  their  own  people,  this  might  never  have  been,  and, 
whether  or  no,  it  was  all  ended  now: — rancor,  enmity 
and  strife  forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  the  wrongs 
dealt  his  name  both  North  and  South.  Yet  only  to  a 
limited  few  was  it  told  that,  after  all,  that  soldier  death 
was  mercy.  The  doctors  said  it  saved  him  from  long 
months  of  suffering — that  he  could  hardly  have  lived 
another  year.  Distress  of  mind,  confinement  and  illness 
had  so  racked  the  fragile  body  that  he  was  a  doomed 
man  the  day  they  sent  him  back,  exchanged,  to  Newport 
News,  to  rejoin  his  one-legged  old  division  leader  in 
time  for  his  last  essay  on  Northern  soil. 

And  there  at  Gettysburg  he  slept,  awaiting  the  ending 
of  the  war,  while  the  clouds  lowered  thicker  and  thicker 
about  the  heads  of  those  whom  he  had  so  loved.  Fred 
Benton,  twice  named  in  official  reports  for  most  gallant 
conduct  on  the  field,  and  recommended  for  the  brevet 


338  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

of  major,  found  himself  again  summoned  to  Washing 
ton,  this  time  a  witness  before  a  military  commission 
for  the  trial  of  one  Peter  Jennings,  civilian,  for  whose 
apprehension  with  a  whole  skin  the  First  Virginia  Cav 
alry  stood  ready  to  pay  a  round  sum  and  the  "  Stone 
wall  "  to  supplement  it  with  another,  each  claiming  prior 
right  to  perforate  or  sear  that  skin  at  sight.  The  Vir 
ginians  swore  he  was  a  double-dyed  traitor,  informer 
and  spy — that  he  sold  information  to  the  Federals,  and 
had  betrayed  Ladue  of  the  Eleventh  Alabama  into  their 
hands,  even  while  Stanton  and  others  at  the  War  De 
partment  were  ready  to  swear  the  tall  Virginian's  life 
away  to  the  charge  of  giving  information  to  the  rebels 
of  the  plans,  movements  and  numbers  of  the  Union 
forces.  Now,  What,  asked  Benton,  could  they  want  of 
him? 

Among  the  papers  in  poor  Ladue's  possession  was  the 
original  draft  of  the  report  he  had  written  the  com 
manding  officer  of  the  Eleventh  Alabama  of  his  flight 
across  the  Potomac  and  capture  by  Union  cavalry  near 
Mathias  Point.  Not  until  he  reached  a  certain  farm 
house  near  Port  Tobacco  did  he  know  who  were  the 
officers  escaped  from  prison  camp  near  Annapolis,  and 
his  joy  was  great  when  Jack  Chilton  appeared  among 
them — Chilton  mad  with  eagerness  to  make  the  cross 
ing,  the  others  disappointed  that  the  boats  provided 
were  so  pitifully  small — Ladue,  suffering  from  some 
kind  of  ague,  with  remittent  fever,  now  almost  too  weak 
and  ill  to  make  the  attempt  at  all,  yet  determined  to  go 


WHAT   A   LETTER   REVEALED  33$ 

on.  He  and  Chilton  were  ferried  over  on  a  dark,  wintry 
night,  and  landed  at  a  fisherman's  house  t'hree  miles 
below  the  Point,  and  there,  to  his  infinite  concern,  Paul 
found  that  he  had  lost  his  pocket  memorandum  book, 
well  nigh  filled  with  notes  concerning  the  troops  about 
Shepherdstown,  Hagerstown,  Chambersburg  and  so  on 
round  to  Baltimore,  also  certain  sketch  maps  of  field 
fortifications  and  the  like,  all  of  which  he  felt  confident 
would  be  of  value  to  General  Lee.  Then  there  were 
private  papers  in  the  book  of  vast  importance  to  him 
if  to  no  one  else.  A  racking  chill  had  come  on  as  the 
result  of  exposure  to  the  raw  night  wind,  and  Jack  and 
the  fisherman  secreted  him  in  a  barn,  rolled  blankets 
about  him  and  poured  Virginia  peach  brandy  down  his 
throat.  Then  Chilton  deliberately  went  back  to  Mary 
land  in  search  of  the  missing  property,  sorely  against 
his  better  judgment,  but  he  could  not  permit  Paul  to 
go  in  his  weakened  state,  and  going  himself  seemed  the 
only  way.  Thereby  he  escaped  capture  by  the  cavalry 
piloted  by  Jennings,  as  they  since  had  grown  to  believe, 
though,  sanctimonious  and  sorrowful,  the  long  Vir 
ginian  had  arrived  an  hour  ahead  of  them  and,  claiming 
to  be  a  doctor,  was  taken  to  Ladue's  sanctuary  in  the 
hayloft,  and  was  there  captured  ( ?)  with  him.  When 
searched,  Ladue  was  found  to  have  no  incriminating 
papers  about  him — a  disappointment  to  his  captors  and 
obviously  a  puzzle  to  Jennings — for  Ladue  heard  him 
whispering  with  the  officer  in  command.  The  last  Paul 
had  seen  of  Chilton  was  that  December  night,  but  later 


340  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

he  learned  that  he  had  been  compelled  to  remain  in  hid 
ing  many  weeks  in  Charles  County  before  the  vigilance 
of  the  Federals  was  again  relaxed  and  he  could  finally 
effect  his  escape.  Ladue  never  dreamed  they  were 
again  within  hailing  distance  of  each  other  just  before 
the  last  sunrise  of  his  own  dreamy,  gentle,  sorrow-laden 
life.  Then  there  was  a  letter,  unfinished,  for  Elinor, 
which  Fred  had  sealed  and  sent  to  her,  and  it  was 
through  her,  four  weeks  later,  that  he  learned  that  Paul 
well  knew  he  had  not  long  to  live,  and  had  really  hoped 
to  meet  a  soldier's  death  in  front  of  the  charging  line. 
One  longing  he  had,  he  owned,  that  would  probably 
never  be  gratified — that  of  branding  McKinnon  as  a  liar 
and  a  thief,  for  young  Larry  OToole,  he  that  used  to 
sweep  out  and  sprinkle  the  store  and  had  enlisted  as  a 
drummer  in  the  Montgomerys  after  Paul's  banishment, 
had  strayed  in  search  of  forbidden  luxuries  just  before 
Chancellorsville,  his  pockets  filled  with  poker  winnings, 
and  Stuart's  men  had  nabbed  him  and  run  him  off  to 
Richmond  where  Ladue  was  sent  to  tell  the  story  of 
his  experiences,  and  here  was  favored  with  O'Toole's 
account  of  McKinnon's  bribing  him  to  purloin  those  St. 
Louis  letters.  With  this  confirmation  of  his  theories 
burning  within  him,  Paul  had  gone  to  Charlottesville, 
spending  one  day  with  the  Chiltons  and  hearing  from 
the  doctor  a  strange  story  of  McKinnon's  generosity  to 
them  and  kindness  to  the  imperiled  son.  Rosalie  had 
listened  in  silent  acquiescence  until  Paul  burst  in  with 
vehement  denunciation  of  the  whole  story — told  them 


WHAT    A   LETTER   REVEALED  341 

of  McKinnon's  treachery  to  him  and  his  hatred  of  the 
Bentons, — told  them  of  Fred's  devoted  friendship,  and 
then  came  a  strange  part  of  the  letter.  Elinor  copied 
it  verbatim : — 

"  Miss  Chilton  grew  more  and  more  excited  as  I  talked,  and  finally 
whirled  on  me  with  '  How  can  you  speak  of  devoted  friendship  on 
part  of  a  man  who  planned  to  capture  you  both  and  was  only  balked  by — 
by  Jack's  going  back  for  your  old  note  book! '  Then  she  rushed  out  of 
the  room,  and  I  had  to  go  right  on  to  Gordonsville  and  could  only  write 
to  her  that,  that  too,  was  probably  one  of  McKinnon's  slanders,  and  there 
wasn't  a  word  of  truth  in  it — that  no  one  was  more  amazed  than  Fred 
when  they  brought  me  in.  I've  not  yet  heard  from  her,  but  I  shall,  and 
Jack  shall  know  the  moment  I  can  find  him." 

"  Was  it  not  strange  that  that  same  old  notebook,  which  she  risked  so 
much  to  send  to  me  that  night  Fred  caught  her  at  the  stone  house, 
should  later  have  been  the  means  of  saving  Jack  ?  She  found  it  in  the 
breast  pocket  of  my  new  uniform  coat  at  Henry's,  and  glancing  through 
the  pages  saw  the  sketches  and  memoranda  I  had  even  then  been 
making  ;  supposed  it  was  of  vast  importance, — something  that  we  ought 
to  have  and,  fearing  it  would  fall  into  the  enemy's  hands,  bethought 
her  of  Jennings  and  Judge  Armistead;  slipped  into  my  uniform,  and 
Fred  has  probably  told  you  the  rest." 

So  there  it  was  at  last: — the  story  of  her  daring  and 
devotion — unnecessary,  perhaps,  and  misdirected,  but 
daring  none  the  less — and  Benton,  had  he  but  opened 
hi^  heart  to  Paul  in  the  few  days  they  were  together 
at  the  Chiltons,  might  have  known  it  all!  There  then 
was  that  mystery  solved,  and  McKinnon,  furthermore, 
had  been  unmasked,  and  was  even  more  of  a  black 
guard  than  they  had  deemed  him.  Now,  at  least,  must 
Rosalie  know  how  utterly  in  her  wrath  she  had  wronged 
the  man  whose  devotion  to  her  she  surely  could  not  fail 
to  realize,  yet  not  a  line  from  her  had  found  its  way  to 


342  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

Elinor.  There  was  some  comfort  in  the  belief  that  now 
she  knew,  but — how  he  longed  to  get  at  McKinnon  for 
further  comfort !  That,  however,  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  Major  McKinnon  had  gone  with  the  Twelfth 
Corps  to  Chattanooga ;  had  indeed  left  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  with  despatches,  it  was  said,  and  certainly  with 
despatch,  within  two  hours  of  Ladue's  dying  accusa 
tion.  It  was  no  place  for  him  about  Meade's  headquar 
ters  after  that. 

And  now  that  queer  customer,  Jennings,  was  also 
under  the  ban,  was  he  ?  And  they  needed  Benton's  evi 
dence  — Benton  whose  brevet  hung  fire  for  reasons  he 
could  not  understand — Benton  who  didn't  love  the  war 
office  and  who  well  knew  he  had  found  no  favor  in  the 
grim,  deep-set  eyes  behind  those  comprehensive  spec 
tacles.  There  was  little  he  could  really  tell  of  Jennings, 
though  he  had  never  forgotten  that  story  about  the 
Indiana  sergeant  seeing  Rosalie  toss  the  packet  to  him 
in  the  rush  and  excitement  at  the  stone  house.  If  that 
story  were  true  she  must  have  thought  him  faithful  at 
the  time  at  least.  That  fateful  notebook,  filled  with 
Paul's  clever  topographical  sketches  and  his  daily 
memoranda — what  had  not  Rosalie  dared  in  her  effort  to 
send  it  to  safe  hands !  What  sacrifice  had  not  Chilton 
made  in  recrossing  the  Potomac  that  wintry  night  in 
hopes  of  recovering  it !  Yet,  had  not  that  very  crossing 
prevented,  not  procured,  his  recapture?  That  note 
book,  as  Ladue  had  written,  had  really  been  "the 
means  of  saving  Jack."  Where  was  it  now?  thought 


WHAT    A    LETTER    REVEALED  343 

Benton,  as  once  again  he  caught  sight  of  the  unfinished 
dome  of  the  great  white  capitol.  A  very  valuable  bit 
of  property  the  little  volume  might  be  to  Southern  chief 
tain  again  invading  Maryland  with  an  army  at  his  back 
— and  a  very  dangerous  one  for  Southern  officer  to  be 
caught  with — if  alone ! 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

LOUNSBERRY'S  LAST  STING 

Gettysburg  had  thinned  the  grand  old  First  Corps 
into  the  proportions  of  a  small  division.  Consolidation 
became  the  watchword,  and,  with  Reynolds  dead  and  his 
successors  devoid  of  influence,  it  had  none  in  power  to 
preserve  its  autonomy.  The  Second,  Fifth  and  Sixth 
Corps  retained  their  badges  and  their  name.  The  Elev 
enth  and  Twelfth,  sent  to  the  West,  were  "  telescoped  " 
and  called  the  Twentieth.  The  Third  had  lost  its  grip, 
with  Sickles's  leg,  at  Gettysburg, —  its  way,  with 
French's  head,  at  Mine  Run,  and  finally  its  place  and 
name, — being  distributed  to  fill  the  gaps  in  other  organi 
zations.  As  for  what  was  left  of  the  First,  most  of  it, 
under  gray-headed  Wadsworth,  went  as  the  Fourth  Di 
vision  to  the  Fifth  Corps,  our  old  friends  of  the  Iron 
Brigade  ruefully  shedding  the  blood-red  disk  and  deck 
ing  their  caps  with  the  Maltese  cross.  And  so,  faithful 
to  the  end,  they  hewed  their  way  through  the  Wilder 
ness,  hard  hit  many  a  time,  but  ever  landing,  catlike,  on 
their  feet,  even  though  so  many  of  the  old  leaders  were 
gone.  Brave,  silver-haired  Wadsworth,  after  heroic  ef 
fort  against  Longstreet,  died  at  their  head  in  the  crash 
of  the  sixth  of  May,— Cutler  taking  the  division,  and 


LOUNSBERRY'S   LAST    STING  345 

Bragg,  another  graduate  of  the  Sixth,  the  brigade, — and 
holding  it  longest  of  all.  Few  they  were  when  they 
readied  the  James,  mourning  with  all  their  hearts  for 
Haskell,  killed  in  command  of  his  new  Badger  regiment 
in  the  awful  attack  at  Cold  Harbor.  With  Warren  they 
rounded  the  gray  line  at  Five  Forks, — Hallon  Richard 
son,  heading  the  Seventh,  receiving  the  shot  meant  for 
their  major  general, — and  finally,  bursting  from  the 
southward  woods  below  Appomattox,  they  helped  to 
bar  the  last  gateway  of  Lee's  beaten  army.  Then  they 
marched  back  to  droop  their  riddled,  crape-laden  colors 
for  the  last  time  before  the  head  of  the  nation  in  the 
grand  review  at  Washington  and,  with  final  handclasp 
from  Hoosiers  and  Wolverines  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways,  went  home  to  lay  those  tattered  flags  within  the 
walls  of  their  own  white  capitol,  with  never  a  stain  or 
shadow  on  the  record  of  their  defenders. 

But  the  story  of  several  who  set  forth  with  them  was 
still  unfinished.  Fred  Benton,  who  had  ridden  with 
their  battling  line  on  many  a  bloody  day,  came  not 
homeward  with  the  few  survivors.  A  strange  fortune 
had  been  his  after  Wadsworth  fell.  There  had  been 
many  a  reason,  as  has  been  told,  for  believing  that  the 
tall  Virginian,  Jennings,  had  played  a  double  game  from 
first  to  last — that  he  had 'served  the  purposes  of  several 
officers  of  the  Confederate  government  even  while  re 
ceiving  the  pay  and  protection  of  the  United  States; 
and,  though  it  was  he  that  revealed  to  the  secret  service 
the  fact  that  two  young  officers,  Chilton  and  Ladue  of 


346  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

the  Confederate  Army,  could  be  captured  by  sending 
cavalry  to  the  fisher's  hut  below  Mathias  Point,  and 
though  it  was  through  this  information  that  Ladue  had 
been  caught,  Stanton  'had  abundant  ground  for  suspect 
ing  the  guide,  had  had  him  watched  and  later  arrested. 
Benton's  evidence  had  little  helped  the  prosecution, 
however,  and  when  the  young  officer  was  again  sum 
moned  to  the  War  Department  and  again  questioned 
as  to  his  relations  with  the  Chiltons,  he  finally  "  fired 
up,"  as  the  President  himself  expressed  it  later,  and  de 
clared  the  line  of  inquiry  a  reflection  on  his  loyalty  and 
integrity.  Stanton  so  hated  the  rebellion  that  he  seemed 
to  hold  no  officer  above  suspicion  who  did  not  hate 
everything  connected  with  it,  and  Benton  could  not  be 
made  to  hate  the  Chiltons — any  of  them — or  to  look 
with  anything  less  than  love  on  the  memory  of  Paul 
Ladue. 

So  he  came  back  from  Washington  in  time  for  the 
Mine  Run  affair,  boiling  over  again  with  wrath  at  the 
way  he  had  been  badgered.  Stanton  as  much  as  inti 
mated  that  Benton  knew  Jennings  to  be  false  to  his  obli 
gations,  and  was  shielding  him  as  had  striven  to  de 
fend  the  Chiltons  and  Ladue.  "  No  man  can  serve  two 
masters,  young  sir,"  said  the  stern  Secretary,  "  and  you 
can't  properly  serve  your  country  and  shield  those  in 
rebellion  against  it.  I've  seen  too  much  of  this  disposi 
tion  on  your  part,  and  if  I  see  any  more  of  it — I'll  break 
you!" 


LOUNSBERRY'S   LAST    STING  347 

Words  were  these  to  be  well  remembered  in  the  light 
of  later  events. 

No  wonder  Benton  was  aflame  with  indignation,  and 
narrowly  did  he  escape  court-martial  for  the  hot  wrath 
©f  his  reply.  He  demanded  a  court  of  inquiry  but  to 
no  purpose.  There  was  little  evidence  but  his  own. 
He  continued  to  serve  with  Wadsworth,  who,  from  hav 
ing  been  more  than  half  inclined  at  one  time  to  share 
Stanton's  views,  had  now  reasons  of  his  own  for  differ 
ing  radically  with  that  Tremendous  Power,  and  took 
up  the  cudgels  for  Fred  in  his  vehement  fashion,  and 
might  have  gotten  into  serious  trouble  of  his  own  had 
it  not  been  for  the  shot  that  ended  it  all  that  bitter  day 
in  the  Wilderness.  Then  Benton  was  transferred  for  a 
time  to  the  headquarters  of  the  cavalry  corps,  and  rode 
with  Sheridan  to  Yellow  Tavern,  where  the  plumes  of 
Stuart  went  down  at  last,  and  the  brilliant  leader  of  the 
Southern  Horse  was  borne  away  to  die  within  the  walls 
of  the  weeping  city,  and  here  it  was,  after  Yellow  Tav 
ern,  Fred  Benton  had  one  of  the  oddest,  yet  most  oppor 
tune,  meetings  of  the  war. 

It  was  a  soft,  moonlit  night  in  May.  The  dead  and 
wounded  still  lay  in  numbers  on  the  field  of  the  stirring 
fight.  The  lines  had  surged  hither  and  yon  during  the 
late  afternoon.  Three  Confederate  officers,  unhorsed 
and  captured,  had  been  brought  to  Sheridan's  camp  fire 
near  the  Richmond  road,  and  in  one  of  these  Benton 
instantly  recognized  young  Winston,  wearing  now  the 
braid  of  a  major  of  cavalry.  The  recognition  was  mu- 


348  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

tual,  and  Benton's  well-filled  flask  was  brought  into  re 
quisition  at  the  instant.  Soldiers  sink  their  enmity  at 
such  a  time.  The  blue  and  the  gray  were  soon  in 
cordial  chat,  but  Benton  saw  the  Virginian  was  in  deep 
chagrin.  A  question  as  to  Lounsberry's  whereabouts 
was  all  that  was  needed,  and  Winston  launched  at  once 
into  a  tirade.  There  never  was  such  infernal  luck,  he 
said.  For  months  three  men  had  been  hounding  that 
fellow  to  get  an  accounting  from  him  on  a  matter  that — 
that — well,  Pelham's  sister  had  been  engaged — at  least 
believed  herself  engaged — to  Lounsberry  ever  since 
early  in  the  war,  yet  in  January  came  the  announcement 
of  his  approaching  marriage  to  a  widow  of  wealth  and 
social  position  in  Charleston.  He  had  tricked  Maud 
most  damnably,  said  Winston,  and  Floyd  Pelham,  the 
very  young  fellow  who  was  so  nearly  killed  trying  to 
save  Lounsberry  out  there  near  Gainesville,  a  captain 
now  and  only  twenty,  had  been  trying  to  get  a  fight 
out  of  him,  and  so  had  Jack  Chilton,  but  Floyd  had  the 
best  claim,  and  now  Lounsberry  had  actually  been 
nailed.  He  had  come  to  Stuart  with  despatches  and 
Pelham  had  slashed  'him  in  the  face  with  his  gauntlet. 
A  meeting  had  been  arranged  for  to-morrow  morning. 
He,  Winston,  was  Pelham's  second,  and  would  almost 
give  his  parole,  were  such  a  thing  possible  to  an  officer 
of  Stuart's  cavalry,  to  get  back  to  the  Confederate  lines 
and  bring  that  fellow  to  book. 

"  You  owe  him  a  grudge  as  well  as  Maud  Pelham's 
kinsmen,"  said  he.     "  Sooner  or  later  he's  got  to  fight 


LOUNSBERRY'S   LAST    STING  349 

or  funk.  I  can't  be  there  to  second  Pelham,  and  now 
there's  no  telling  when  any  of  us  can  get  at  him." 

"Why  not  Chilton?"  asked  Fred. 

"  Chilton !  "  and  Winston  flushed  with  embarrass 
ment.  "  Chilton  has  just  been  sent  away  on — other 
duty." 

"  With  his  wounded  leader  and  kinsman — to  Rich 
mond?"  hazarded  Fred. 

"  No — o,"  was  the  halting  reply.  In  fact  Winston 
could  not  say  whither  he  had  gone. 

It  seemed  long  indeed  before  any  of  those  who  owed 
Lounsberry  a  grudge  were  enabled  to  "  get  at  him." 
But  there  came  a  time,  and  not  to  those  that  wore  the 
gray,  but  to  Benton,  still  serving  with  Sheridan,  still 
wearing  the  blue,  still  praying  for  a  break  in  the  strain 
ing  lines  that  circled  the  still  defiant  Capital, — a  break 
that  would  permit  him  to  ride  again  to  Charlottesville 
where  he  had  left  the  silken  sash,  to  say  nothing  of  his 
heart,  in  the  hands  of  that  proud,  impulsive  Virginia 
girl.  Even  through  Elinor,  neither  word  nor  sign  had 
come  from  her  in  all  these  long  months. 

Grant  had  crossed  the  James  and  invested  Petersburg, 
when  to  shake  him  loose,  if  possible,  by  the  old  device 
of  scaring  Washington,  Early  was  sent  down  the  Shen- 
andoah  Valley,  with  twelve  thousand  men  and  orders 
to  stir  up  Maryland.  Stir  accordingly  he  did,  until  the 
arrival  of  the  Sixth  Corps  from  the  James  and  the  ap 
proach  of  the  Nineteenth  warned  him  he  could  not  too 
soon  drop  it  all  and  scurry  back.  He  had  come  close 


350  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

enough  to  sight  the  spires  of  the  Capital  City  and  put 
Stanton  into  a  fume.  He  had  displayed  remarkable 
knowledge  of  all  our  works  and  ways,  and  had  found 
time  to  substantially  reward  certain  farm  people  near 
Shepherdstown  and  to  shake  hands  with  not  a  few  en 
thusiastic  sympathizers  who  came  flocking  out  from 
Baltimore  to  meet  him.  No  wonder  Stanton  was  wroth ! 
Then  Early  harked  back,  leaving  just  a  few  of  his  men 
cut  off  by  a  sudden  rush  of  Union  cavalry,  one  of  these 
a  young  captain  of  his  own  staff,  an  almost  invaluable 
officer.  It  seems  that  he  had  dared  to  ride  too  far  to 
visit  and  thank  certain  people  Who  had  won  his  grati 
tude  on  a  previous  and  more  extended  visit.  This  time 
it  was  not  so  easy  to  get  away  across  the  Potomac.  He 
was  still  in  hiding  when  Grant  sent  Sheridan  to  put  a 
stop  to  further  use  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley  as  the 
highroad  to  invasion  of  the  North.  Stanton  growled 
at  the  order.  Sheridan  was  too  young,  said  he,  for  so 
important  a  command,  but  the  President  had  seen 
enough  of  the  policy  of  interference  at  the  rear  with 
the  fighters  at  the  front.  Grant's  choice  was  sustained, 
and.  speedily  justified  itself.  With  Sheridan  went  Fred 
Benton. 

The  Sixth  Corps  had  followed  Early  across  and  fought 
him  sharply  in  the  Blue  Ridge.  Some  of  the  wounded 
were  still  lying  in  farm-houses,  and  sorrowful  women 
were  busily  caring  for  these  as  best  they  could,  for  most 
of  their  medical  men  had  gone  with  the  army.  One 
warm  August  evening,  as  Benton  came  riding  down 


LOUNSBERRY'S   LAST   STING  351 

from  a  scout  among  the  beautiful  heights  that  border 
the  valley  on  the  east,  he  stopped  to  water  his  horse  at 
the  public  trough  in  front  of  a  village  tavern,  and  while 
his  half  dozen  troopers  were  resetting  saddles  and  ex 
changing  laughing,  low-toned  comment  over  the  dis 
favor  in  the  few  feminine  faces  visible,  his  quick  eye 
caught  a  glimpse  of  three  forms  that,  coming  suddenly 
from  a  leafy  side  street,  had  stopped  short  at  sight  of 
the  blue-jackets  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  had 
turned  back  the  way  they  came.  One,  an  elderly  clergy 
man,  gave  his  arm  to  a  gentlewoman,  evidently  bowed 
with  care  and  sorrow.  The  third  form  was  that  of  a 
girl,  slender,  graceful,  and  in  her  walk  there  was  some 
thing  vaguely  familiar  to  Benton's  eyes,  even  before  he 
noted  that  she  wore  a  drab  felt  hat,  broad-brimmed  and 
feathered.  There  seemed  no  houses  in  the  little  hamlet 
that  warranted  the  presence  of  people  of  such  evident 
station,  and  Benton  followed  to  the  corner,  saw  the  trio 
hold  brief  conference,  saw  the  young  lady  bow  her  head 
as  though  in  acquiescence,  then  enter  the  gateway  of  an 
unpretentious  little  home,  while  the  other  two  walked 
slowly  on.  He  had  seen  just  enough  to  rouse  both 
memory  and  interest.  Quickly  he  crossed  the  street, 
followed  along  a  hedge  of  rose  bushes,  turned  sharply 
through  the  gate,  and  face  to  face  at  the  trellised  porch 
met  the  girl  whom  he  had  first  seen  sauntering  along 
that  leafy  side  street  at  Charlottesville  in  the  spring  of 
'62.  Bearded,  bronzed  and  stalwart  as  he  was  to-day, 
she  saw  nothing  to  remind  her  of  the  pallid  prisoner 


352  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

of  the  Chiltons,  and  only  indignation  at  his  intrusion 
blazed  in  her  cheeks  and  eyes,  but,  in  spite  of  gallant  ef 
fort,  she  struck  her  colors  at  his  very  first  word,  when, 
with  uphtted  torage-cap  he  bowed  and  calmly  addressed 
her:— 

"  Miss  Pelham,  I  believe,  whom  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  at  Charlottesville.  I  hope  your  brother  is  not 
wounded — and  here." 

Then  he  repented  him  of  his  cruelty  when  he  saw  her 
sway  and  stretch  forth  her  hand  for  the  support  of  the 
railing  at  the  steps.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  continued,  his 
blue  eyes  fixed  on  her  almost  ashen  face,  "  but  nothing 
less  could  have  brought  you  here,  and,  pardon  me 
again,  but  I  must  enter,"  and  he  moved  as  though  to 
pass  her  by.  Instantly,  almost  in  terror,  she  grasped 
his  arm. 

"  No !  Oh,  no !  "  she  cried.  "  I  give  you  my  word ! 
My  brother  is  not  here !  " 

"  Then  I  am  more  than  glad,"  said  Benton,  for  it  all 
seemed  to  flash  over  him  in  the  instant,  and,  despite  her 
clinging  hands  and  almost  frantic  appeal,  he  sprang  up 
the  steps  and  into  the  open  doorway.  There  was  a 
simple  little  country  parlor,  furnished  with  round  center 
table  and  horsehair  sofa  and  chairs,  with  those  old- 
fashioned  worsted  mats  upon  the  table  and  the  little 
mantel-shelf,  supporting  ornaments  of  painted  china 
and  a  gothic  wooden  clock.  Beyond  this  parlor  lay  a 
little  inner  room,  a  bedroom,  as  he  could  easily  see,  with 
a  window  opening  on  the  vines  and  berry  bushes  in  the 


LOUNSBBRRY'S   LAST   STING  353 

back  yard,  and  on  the  bed,  gaunt,  fever-stricken,  and 
gazing  up  at  the  startled,  colored  mammy,  acting  as 
nurse,  and  then  into  the  face  of  the  blue-uniformed  in 
truder,  lay  the  wreck  of  the  one  personal  enemy  Fred 
Benton  was  aware  of  in  all  Virginia — all  that  was  left 
of  Scott  Lounsberry. 

And  as  the  soldier  paused  there  at  the  doorway,  in 
utter  silence  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met,  Benton's 
blazing  blue  fire,  Lounsberry's  glaring  with  fever  and 
hate.  Then,  throwing  aside  her  feathered  hat  and  the 
light  wrap  that  she  carried  on  her  arm,  Maud  Pelham 
sprang  past  the  Union  officer  and  stood  almost  defiantly 
facing  him. 

"  You  shall  not  take  him — touch  him !  "  she  cried,  in 
tones  intense  and  low.  "  He  is  terribly  wounded.  He 
has  done  you  no  wrong !  " 

Benton  looked  upon  her  in  blended  wonderment  and 
pity.  If  what  Winston  said  were  true,  what  was  she 
doing  here?  Instinctively  he  had  removed  his  cap  and 
stood  before  her  bare-headed.  At  least  she  had  been 
Rosalie's  friend  and  playmate  in  the  days  before  those 
cruel  complications  had  arisen — before  this  now  stricken 
man,  actuated  by  who  knows  what  passion  of  pique  and 
longing  for  revenge,  had  broken  up  that  friendship. 
Almost  in  sadness  Benton  began  to  speak. 

"  He  tried  hard  to  harm  me  and  he  made  you  the  in 
strument,"  he  said.  "  Did  you  not  know  that  note  was 
meant  to  lure  me  into  a  trap?  Did  you  not  know  that 
his  men  were  waiting  there  to  seize  or  possibly  to  kill 
me?"  23 


354  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

From  the  bed  there  came  a  feeble  yet  almost  fiendish 
cackle  of  horrid  laughter,  and  the  girl's  wild,  dilated 
eyes  that  at  Benton's  words  were  staring  at  him,  turned 
in  sudden  anguish  and  alarm  to  the  fevered  man,  whose 
voice  quavered  in  a  sneer  of  mingled  hate  and  triumph. 

"  You  got  away,  thanks  to  her,  and  her  meddling,  but 
he  won't — by  God — he  won't!  They've  got  Jack  Chil- 
ton  hard  and  fast  this  time — a  spy  with  a  hatful  of  in 
formation  and  they'll  hang  him  within  the  week !  " 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

SURRENDER 

The  fever  that  followed  the  serious  wounds  received 
by  Major  Lounsberry  was  in  itself  sufficient  to  end  the 
earthly  career  of  even  a  stronger  man.  Two  days  after 
Benton  found  him  that  fever  was  gone,  but  so  was  the 
last  atom  of  his  strength.  Those  two  days  he  tossed  in 
delirium,  watched  by  one  unhappy,  but  devoted  girl  and 
that  faithful  old  Mammy,  and  visited  at  such  intervals 
as  her  own  failing  strength  would  permit  by  his  heart 
broken  mother.  Word  of  his  peril  had  reached  Char- 
lottesville  soon  after  the  sharp  fight  at  Snicker's  Gap. 
Early's  retreating  force  had  striven  to  bring  him  along, 
but,  between  the  torment  caused  him  by  the  jolting  of 
the  ambulance  and  the  persistent  attacks  of  Union  cav 
alry,  they  had  had  to  leave  him  by  the  way.  Mrs. 
Lounsberry  and  the  venerable  rector  of  their  church 
started  within  six  hours  of  the  receipt  of  the  news,  by 
which  time  all  Charlottesville  had  heard  of  it,  and  al 
most  the  first  to  come  to  the  stricken  mother  was  the 
girl  her  son  had  wronged.  A  strange  meeting  was  that, 
and  stranger  still  was  one  but  half  an  hour  later  when 
Rosalie  Chilton  appeared,  and  two  Virginia  girls  who 
had  not  exchanged  a  word  since  the  first  days  of  the 


356  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

war,  and  neither  of  whom  had  been  a  visitor  at  the 
Lounsberrys'  for  many  a  moon,  buried  their  differences 
with  that  sorrow-laden  mother,  and  set  their  own  quar 
rel  aside  that  they  might  be  of  service  to  her  and  to  a 
soldier  of  the  South  in  the  hour  of  such  affliction.  More 
over  it  was  in  Dr.  Chilton's  old  carriage,  with  Dr.  Chil- 
ton's  old  horses  and  driven  by  Black  Dan,  that  the 
journey  to  the  distant  front  was  made.  This  was  no 
time  to  speak  of  the  cruel  things  said  by  the  Louns- 
berrys  of  Dr.  Chilton  and  Rosalie  after  Benton's  escape. 
The  grave  had  closed  over  the  proud,  impetuous  head 
of  that  now  doubly  bereaved  household.  Ill  fortune 
had  followed  the  father's  death,  and  much  of  his  little 
estate  had  been  sold  under  the  hammer.  Small  comfort 
had  the  handsome  prodigal  proved  himself  at  that  or 
any  other  time,  but  much  had  he  promised  as  the  result 
of  his  approaching  marriage.  There  had  been  a  memor 
able  interview  between  the  mother  and  that  wronged 
and  trusting  girl  when  at  last  Maud  Pelham's  forebod 
ings  were  realized.  There  had  in  fact  been  a  violent 
scene,  for  Mrs.  Lounsberry  had  sought  to  shield  her 
son  and  at  Maud's  expense.  But  that,  too,  was  all  ig 
nored  now.  The  other  engagement  had  been  broken 
summarily  two  weeks  after  Yellow  Tavern,  for  one  of 
Wade  Hampton's  staff,  sent  home  wounded,  had  told  at 
Charleston  how  Floyd  Pelham  had  struck  Lounsberry 
and  why.  There  had  been  weeks  in  which  Maud  Pel- 
ham  would  have  met  Lounsberry  only  with  scorn  and 
contempt,  but  that  was  before  his  comrades  sent  him 


SURRENDER  357 

to  Coventry,  and  never  again  after  news  of  his  serious 
wound.  Though  all  Gharlottesville  knew  that  he  had 
been  false  to  her,  she  went  to  his  mother  the  instant  she 
heard  the  tidings,  and  with  her  on  the  anxious  journey 
that  followed. 

They  were  searching  the  impoverished  little  village 
under  the  heights,  hoping  somewhere  to  find  ice  to  allay 
that  burning  fever,  when  the  sight  of  blue-jacket  cavalry 
sent  them  back  and  Benton  followed.  They,  who  over 
and  again  had  forgotten  and  forgiven  the  sins  of  the 
stricken  man,  were  amazed  when,  early  next  morning, 
a  Federal  officer  drove  over  from  the  distant  camps  be 
yond  the  foaming  Shenandoah  and  unloaded  at  their 
humble  doorway,  not  the  expected  and  hated  guards, 
but  a  box  of  ice,  packed  in  sawdust,  and  certain  supplies 
from  the  commissariat.  Then,  while  a  brace  of  soldiers 
were  attending  to  these,  a  gifted  young  physician  on 
Sheridan's  staff  was  gravely  studying  the  tossing  pa 
tient.  Nor  did  dharity  end  here — but  details  are  un 
necessary.  The  mother  accepted  all  with  wondering 
and  tearful  gratitude,  the  almost  hopeless  girl  with 
humbled  and  sorrowing  spirit,  and  even  the  doomed 
soldier  himself,  when  consciousness  returned,  was  too 
weak  to  resent  or  to  refuse,  and  so  childlike  and  broken 
that  he  could  only  bury  his  haggard  face  in  the  poor 
mother's  breast  and  sob  out  the  story  of  his  shame  and 
contrition. 

It  was  through  Sheridan's  lines  and  Benton's  help 
they  bore  him  away  to  his  last  resting  place  when  the 


358  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

solemn  struggle  was  over.  It  was  at  Charlottesville 
again  that  Maud  Pelham  and  Rosalie  met  beside  the 
grave,  and  that  later,  on  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in 
the  lap  of  the  once  imperious  queen,  a  poor,  humbled, 
heart-broken  girl  sobbed  out  in  turn  her  own  sad  story 
and  Lounsberry's  confession,  little  dreaming  that  it 
would  send  still  another  to  her  knees,  praying  not  alone 
for  mercy  for  the  repentant  dead,  not  alone  for  the 
rescue,  the  safety,  of  a  beloved  brother,  but  even  for 
heaven's  blessing  on  an  enemy  to  Virginia  and  the 
sacred  cause — the  soldier  she  had  so  cruelly  wronged. 

"  He's  past  prayin'  for,  bedad !  "  said  the  captain  6f 
the  Montgomerys,  of  Benton,  about  this  time, — the  cap 
tain  and  most  of  his  men  being  at  home  on  veteran  fur 
lough.  "  Ould  Stanton's  got  the  devil's  own  grudge  agin 
him  fur  turnin'  up  in  time  to  spoil  a  hangin' — all  on  ac 
count  av  Ladue  that's  dead."  It  was  hardly  a  felicitious, 
yet  surely  a  concise,  way  of  settling  the  story.  At  no 
time  during  his  incumbency  was  the  great  War  Secretary 
in  so  evil  a  mood  as  during  that  summer  of  '64.  Grant 
and  Sherman  had  both  pushed  southward  in  the  face  of 
furious  fighting,  yet  gold  had  soared  to  flights  hitherto 
unknown, — so  had  the  list  of  casualties, — and  a  great 
political  party,  having  pronounced  the  war  a  failure,  set 
perhaps  the  greatest  failure  of  the  war  at  the  head  of 
their  ticket  and  started  a  campaign  to  down  the  Presi 
dent  beloved  of  the  people.  Then  the  conduct  of  affairs 
in  the  field  had  slipped  from  Stanton's  hands.  A  greater 
than  Halleck  or  he  was  now  in  calm,  masterful,  imper- 


SURRENDER  359 

turbable  control,  while  the  head  of  the  Department  of 
War  had  perforce  to  be  content  with  managing  matters 
at  the  rear,  where,  it  must  be  t&wned,  enemies  were  al 
most  as  active  as  over  the  line.  Many  a  military  head 
he  hit  that  summer  and  fall — summarily  dismissing  even 
regulars  without  the  form  of  a  trial — sometimes  im 
prisoning  "  suspects  "  without  sign  of  a  warrant,  some 
times  sending  whole  families  into  exile,  and  at  all  times 
being  as  overcharged  with  explosive  shock  as  a  bulging 
thundercloud  sailing  in  search  of  object  at  which  to 
launch  a  bolt.  The  illimitable  humor  and  patience  of 
the  President,  coupled  with  the  unalterable  conviction 
of  the  Secretary  himself  that  ruin  would  follow  were  he 
to  resign,  stood  between  the  latter  and  open  rupture 
with  his  incomparable  chief.  He  would  have  hanged 
Jack  Chilton  before  the  end  of  the  August  moon  if  it 
had  not  been  for  Lincoln's  restraining  hand.  Proof? 
What  more  proof  was  wanting?  Had  he  not  a  second 
time — and  both  times  in  disguise — visited  notorious 
Southern  sympathizers  within  our  lines?  Was  not  the 
notebook  found  in  his  possession  filled  with  memoranda, 
sketches,  etc.,  of  our  field  works  and  forces  in  Mary 
land?  What  if  he  did  say  he  never  penciled  a  line  of 
them  ?  Anybody  would  say  that !  The  President,  said 
he,  was  "  soft-hearted  as  a  summer  squash  in  Septem 
ber."  The  President  wanted  to  see  young  Benton 
again,  did  he  ?  What  was  this  story  about  Benton's  ap 
pealing  to  Sheridan  for  safe  conduct  through  the  lines 
for  rebel  families  with  rebel  dead?  Stanton  was  quite 


360  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

in  the  mood  to  carry  out  his  threat  of  "  breaking  "  Ben- 
ton  then  and  there,  but  rather  ruefully  was  he  realizing 
that  he  would  have  to  take  back  another  order,  dismiss 
ing  summarily  a  most  gallant  young  regular,  and  Stan- 
ton  hated  to  take  back  anything,  right  or  wrong.  How 
ever,  he  refused  to  order  Benton  to  Washington,  saying 
that  a  battle  was  imminent,  that  Sheridan  needed  every 
man  of  his  staff,  and  meekly  the  President  succumbed  till 
the  fight  was  over — and  then  it  was  Sheridan,  not  Stan- 
ton,  who  sent  in  our  aide-de-camp,  with  hearty  praise 
for  his  pluck  and  a  shot  through  the  shoulder.  Win 
chester  settled  the  matter  for  good  and  all.  The  Presi 
dent  shook  the  other  hand  of  the  tall,  bearded  Badger 
and  offered  him  two  weeks'  leave  and  a  chance  to  go 
home  until  his  arm  was  out  of  the  sling.  Benton  begged 
instead  for  a  chance  to  see  Chilton,  and  the  charges 
against  him,  and  that  very  day  drove  Stanton  to  the 
verge  of  apoplexy,  for  when  shown  the  fatal  note-book 
he  said  he  knew  it  well  and  could  swear  it  was  all  the 
work  of  Paul  Ladue  and  not  that  of  Jack  Chilton.  Ben- 
ton  could  not  lift  the  gate  of  Lafayette,  whither  poor 
Jack  had  been  sent,  but  he  shattered  all  chance  of  their 
lifting  the  prisoner  at  the  loop  of  a  rope,  and  this  news, 
too,  went  by  devious,  but  still  speedy  ways  to  Char- 
lottesville,  where  again,  on  her  knees,  by  her  father's 
bedside,  with  her  arms  about  that  father's  neck,  Rosalie 
Chilton  thanked  God  for  his  mercies,  and  then  found  it 
harder  than  ever  to  begin  the  letter  she  had  long  meant 


SURRENDER  361 

to  write  to  Elinor  Benton,  even  though  now  the  sending 
of  it  might  be  impossible. 

One  more  ride  had  Benton  near  the  Iron  Brigade, 
after  long  months  of  separation  from  them,  after  many 
and  many  a  day  and  night  in  saddle,  mud  and  rain,  in 
sleet  and  snow,  up  the  Shenandoah,  down  the  James 
River  Canal,  around  Richmond,  and  then,  amidst  volleys 
of  chaff  and  catcalls,  around  the  rear  of  the  entrenched 
Army  of  the  Potomac  and  out  into  the  dripping  woods 
about  Dinwiddie.  One  vehement,  relentless,  resistless 
day  and  night  ride  there  followed,  along  a  tormented 
flank,  and  then,  that  soft,  sunshiny  April  morning,  after 
the  weeks  of  gloom  and  rain,  the  curtaining  cavalry 
drew  aside,  revealing  to  the  now  hopeless  eyes  of  the 
great  Confederate  leader  the  barrier  ranks  of  the  Fifth 
Corps — the  Iron  Brigade  in  their  midst.  And  then,  the 
historic  surrender  ended,  while  the  blue  columns 
tramped  leisurely  northward  past  the  scenes  of  their 
fiercest  endeavor,  one  command,  following  the  line  of 
the  old  Virginia  Central,  found  itself,  late  in  April, 
marching  sturdily  into  Gordonsville,  long  time  the 
abiding  place  of  grim,  unrepentant  old  wardog  Ewell 
and  their  veteran  antagonists  of  Jackson's  famous  corps. 
Some  of  these  fellows,  in  worn  gray  uniforms,  were  at 
the  station  even  now,  two  of  them  shaking  hands  with 
a  tall  staff  officer  in  blue.  "  We  hoped  to  have  Jack  here 
by  this  time,  Major,"  said  Winston.  "  His  release  was 
ordered  soon  as  General  Grant  got  back  to  Washing 
ton,  but  he  had  to  stay  because  of — other  matters,"  and 


362  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

a  flush  of  deep  embarrassment  burned  on  the  Southern 
er's  cheek.  Even  then  they  could  not  without  grief  and 
shame  refer  to  the  great  tragedy  that  stilled  even  the 
joy  of  dawning  peace,  and  hushed  forever  the  voice  of 
him  who,  with  malice  toward  none,  had  never  failed  in 
boundless  charity  for  all.  Jack,  though  given  his  liberty, 
found  himself  still  in  need  of  War  Department  clearance 
papers  that,  in  all  the  horror  of  those  mid  April  days 
and  the  excitement  of  the  chase  for  fugitives,  were  pos 
sibly  inadvertently  withheld.  And  so  it  happened  that, 
with  other  sorrow-stricken  Virginians,  he  was  still  under 
detention  at  Washington,  while  every  nook  of  the  river 
counties  was  being  searched,  and  that  it  should  be  his 
lot  to  encounter  still  further  annoy.  A  steamer  from 
down  the  Potomac  brought  in  three  wounded  men,  vic 
tims  of  a  possibly  avoidable  affray  between  a  searching 
party  and  certain  fisher  people  whose  huts  and  sheds 
had  been  too  suddenly  visited  in  the  darkness  that  pre 
cedes  the  dawn.  Shots  had  been  exchanged,  due,  it 
was  claimed,  to  the  confusion  and  excitement;  but  the 
tall,  lank,  woe-begone  civilian  who  guided  the  party  and 
got  three  serious  wounds  as  his  share  of  the  casualties, 
swore  he  had  been  singled  out  for  vengeance  because 
he  had  been  the  means  of  breaking  up  more  than  one 
well-planned  escape  of  Confederate  prisoners.  It  was 
Jennings,  and  Jennings  before  breathing  his  last  wished 
to  see  Captain  Chilton,  who  swallowed  his  repugnance 
and  went;  for,  in  common  with  most  of  his  people  he 
believed  the  stricken  man  a  two-faced  spy  and  the  seller 


SURRENDER  363 

of  information — which  he  probably  was,  yet  hoped  to 
play  his  game  to  the  last  and  induce  Chilton  now  to  be 
lieve  it  was  the  dead  and  defenseless  Lounsberry  that 
threw  the  cavalry  on  Ladue  that  night  below  Mathias. 

It  was  Southern  lead,  however,  that  ended  Jennings's 
career,  and  he,  at  least,  had  he  lived,  could  never  have 
set  foot  again  on  Virginia  soil. 

These  things  they  told  Fred  Benton  that  soft  April 
evening  on  the  way  up  to  Charlottesville,  as  the  sun  was 
sinking  behind  the  Ragged  Mountains,  and  the  Rivanna, 
bank  full,  came  rushing  and  foaming  down  from  the 
beautiful  Blue  Ridge.  They  led  him  from  the  wreck  of 
a  railway,  through  bowered  streets,  to  the  gate  of  an  old 
Virginia  homestead,  where  leafy  trees  clung  thick  and 
protecting  about  the  columned  portico  and  the  wide- 
spreading  eaves.  There  these  two  war-trained  young 
cavaliers,  still  wearing  their  uniforms  of  gray,  left  him 
for  a  brief  hour,  and  went  their  way  to  answer  many  a 
question,  doubtless,  from  the  lips  of  loved  ones,  not  so 
entirely  absorbed  in  their  own  bliss  as  to  feel  no  interest 
in  the  possibilities  of  another  affair.  Every  girl  in  Char 
lottesville  had  at  least  one  lover  in  the  war.  Some  had 
many  more  than  one.  Some,  alas,  had  lost  the  only  one. 
Was  it  like  that  Queen  Rosalie  should  care  for  none? 
Queen  Rosalie  she  was  again  in  the  hearts  of  many  of 
her  old  coterie,  but  imperious,  wilful,  domineering  no 
longer — changed  to  one  and  all,  as  all  could  see. 

The  trees  and  shrubbery  were  ringing  with  a  riot  of 
melody  as  Benton  softly  closed  the  gate  behind  him  and 


364  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

stood  a  moment,  waiting  for  his  heart  to  cease  the 
violence  of  its  throbbing.  Blue  birds,  wrens  and  orioles 
were  piping  in  final  frolic  before  the  close  of  day.  The 
hedge  rows  and  the  lofty  boughs  alike  seemed  thrilling 
with  life  and  ecstasy  and  song.  Only  the  old  white 
mansion  was  still.  The  broad  doorway  to  the  lower 
hall  stood  invitingly  open.  An  easy  chair,  cushioned, 
stood  close  beside  it,  and  other  chairs,  with  a  footstool 
or  hassock,  an  old  gray  traveling  shawl  and  a  book  or 
two  were  scattered  about.  A  venerable  horse,  wheezy 
and  sedate,  was  cropping  the  grass  and  switching  at 
gnats  under  the  blossoming  fruit  trees  on  the  southward 
side.  The  locusts  drooped  over  the  old  fence  along  the 
cross  street,  where  that  feathered,  drab  felt  hat  first 
caught  Benton's  weary  eyes.  But  on  this  lovely,  breath 
less  evening  no  human  form  appeared,  no  human  voice 
was  heard  in  concert  with  the  vesper  hymn  of  the  myriad 
songsters  of  the  air.  Purposely  had  Benton  given  no 
hint  of  his  coming.  Indeed,  to  whom  should  he  send 
word?  Why  should  he  send  to  any  one?  Why,  in 
deed,  should  he  have  come  at  all? 

Three  years  before,  this  very  month,  he  had  escaped 
in  the  darkness  of  midnight  from  these  surroundings, 
and  it  was  Rosalie  who  pointed  the  way.  Two  years 
before,  this  very  month,  she  had  driven  him  forth  from 
her  presence,  or  turned  from  him  in  a  fury  of  disdain, 
with  insult  on  her  lips,  with  wrath  and  contempt  in  her 
flashing  eyes.  Surely,  encouragement  he  had  none ;  yet, 
the  moment  military  duty  would  permit,  here  again  he 


SURRENDER  365 

stood,  the  knight,  the  champion,  the  lover  she  had 
spurned,  and  never  again  even  by  faintest  sign  had 
summoned. 

He  wished  her  not  to  know  of  his  coming.  Men  who 
deeply  love  and  deeply  long  for  answering  symptom 
throw  to  the  winds  their  every  chance  in  coming  her 
alded,  for  the  fondest  woman,  given  time  and  warning, 
is  a  consummate  dissembler.  The  warmest  heart  will 
coat  itself  with  ice  impenetrable.  No,  he  meant  to  take 
her  by  surprise  as  completely  as  Gordon's  fellows  had 
amazed  the  men  of  the  Eighth  Corps  that  dark  dawn 
under  the  shadows  of  old  Massanutten,  and  only  to  Win 
ston  at  Richmond  had  he  spoken  of  the  possibility  of  his 
stopping  over  a  day  at  Charlottesville.  Half  a  dozen 
girls,  however,  knew  of  the  presence  of  the  invader  be 
fore  Rosalie  Chilton,  but  none  learned  it  in  just  such  a 
way. 

A  few  minutes  Benton  stood  there  in  silent  reconnois- 
sance.  He  might  have  seized  the  old-fashioned  brass 
knocker  at  the  door  and  brought  somebody  in  answer 
to  the  summons,  but  that  would  have  spoiled  the  sur 
prise.  He  bethought  him  of  that  old  arbor  in  the  gar 
den,  and  wondered  if  he  could  pass  the  windows  and 
the  kitchen  without  attracting  notice.  Then,  looking 
about  him,  and  drawing  closer  to  the  shelter  of  the  vine- 
shaded  portico,  he  saw  that  the  placidly  grazing  horse 
had  uplifted  his  venerable  head,  and,  with  ears  on  end, 
was  regarding,  evidently,  some  approaching  object  ; 
then,  with  low  and  welcoming  whinney,  moved  slowly 


366  THE  IRON  BRIGADE 

through  the  fruit  trees  as  though  to  meet  some  one  still 
beyond  the  field  of  the  soldier's  vision.  Then  it  was  that 
Benton  for  the  first  time  realized  that  this  was  old 
Pyramus,  the  horse  that  three  years  before  had  safely 
borne  him  through  the  woods  and  by-roads  to  the  moun 
tain  cabin,  thence  on  to  the  gaps  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  on 
from  Rivanna  to  the  Rapidan,  and  again  to  Bucklands 
and  the  final  rescue  north  of  Bristoe,  only  to  be  turned 
loose  and  abandoned  to  the  pursuing  gray-coats  when 
poor  Hector  sank  exhausted,  crippled,  and  begging  not 
to  be  left  to  the  vengeance  of  the  foe.  Pelham's  friends 
must  have  restored  the  old  horse  to  his  owners,  yet  now 
the  veteran  was  being  made  at  home  here  at  the  Chil- 
tons'.  How  came  that? 

Fred  would  have  gone  instantly  to  renew  acquaintance 
and  reward  his  old  four-footed  friend  with  caress  and 
praise,  but  someone  else  was  crossing  the  lawn,  with  a 
white  hand  extended,  palm  uppermost,  before  her — some 
one  in  white  dimity,  though  Benton  didn't  know  it  from 
damask,  and  cared  nothing  what  it  was,  save  that  the 
waist,  at  least,  clung  to  the  queenly  form  he  was  so 
thrilled  to  see.  The  voluminous  skirt  was  doing  its  best 
to  balloon  without  the  aid  of  a  "  skeleton";  for  crinoline, 
being  the  height  of  fashion,  was  contraband  of  war, 
scarce  hi  the  South  as  cinchona;  but  these  were  details 
of  which  Benton  took  no  note.  There  had  been  a  time 
when  he  fully  intended  that,  not  so  much  for  what  she 
had  said  in  her  wrath  as  for  what  she  must  have  be 
lieved  of  him,  this  proud,  imperious,  wilful  girl  should 


SURRENDER  367 

be  made  to  feel  that  he,  too,  could  rebuke,  but  at  sight 
of  her  and  the  weariness  and  lassitude  with  which  she 
moved,  all  this  seemed  vanished  into  the  air.  All  that 
he  now  saw, — heard, — felt, — knew, — was  that  it  was  she, 
Rosalie,  who,  only  half  a  dozen  rods  away,  lovely  as  ever 
in  her  dark  beauty,  yet  pathetically  changed,  had  thrown 
one  arm  about  that  scrawny,  grizzled,  equine  neck,  and 
stood  softly  stroking  the  lean  old  head,  softly  murmur 
ing  to  the  unheeding  ear  and  nestling  the  warm  velvet 
of  her  cheek  upon  that  unresponsive  jowl — all  that 
sweetness  thrown  away  upon  a  superannuated  steed  that, 
ignoring  sweets  incomparable,  nuzzled  about  her 
rounded  neck  and  arms  in  quest  of  lump  sugar,  long 
since  a  forgotten  luxury.  Rosalie's  back  was  toward 
the  intruder  in  blue,  as,  no  longer  hesitant,  he  went 
striding  under  the  trees  until  almost  within  arms'  length 
of  her,  Pyramus,  the  while,  regarding  him  with  mute 
and  placid  curiosity,  with  neither  hope  nor  fear.  And 
here  the  soldier  stood  and  looked  on  hungrily  a  moment 
at  priceless  caresses,  for  any  touch  of  which  he  could 
almost  sell  his  soul,  and  listening  to  low,  murmurous 
words  of  tenderness  and  affection  that,  lavished  on  him, 
would  have  turned  grief  or  suffering  to  instant  ecstasy. 
The  sight  thrilled  him,  even  while  it  fired  his  soul  with 
envious  greed.  And  then, — and  then  came  further  mur 
mured  words,  at  sound  of  which  his  heart  stormed  at  its 
heaving  bars,  and  fairly  leaped  in  mad  delight  and  pas 
sionate,  rejoiceful  love.  Gracious  heaven,  could  he  be 
lieve  his  senses! 


368  THE    IRON   BRIGADE 

"  Dear  old  fellow — dear  old  fellow !  Did  anybody 
think  I'd  let  him  be  sold  to  strangers,  after  all  he'd  done 
for  me — and  mine  ?  Good  old  Pyramus  !  Good  old 
boy !  "  And  all  this  with  petting,  patting  hands,  with 
that  soft  cheek  still  nestled  against  the  long,  brown, 
bony  muzzle.  "  He'd  do  it  all  over  again,  wouldn't  he  ? 
He'd  bring  him  back — back  to  me — if  only — I  hadn't — " 
And  then  both  white  arms  were  clasped  about  that  pre 
posterous  neck,  and  the  dark  tresses  of  the  girl  were 
bowed  against  and  mingled  with  the  grizzled,  tangled 
mane  of  her  one  confidant.  The  lovely  face  was  hidden 
from  the  worshipping  eyes  of  blue,  but  only  for  an  in 
stant.  In  daring  and  delight  and  overmastering  love, 
with  caution  thrown  to  the  winds,  and  pride  and  resolu 
tion  totally  forgotten,  Benton  sprang  forward,  one  low 
cry  of  "  Rosalie  "  on  his  lips;  seized;  tore  loose  the  clasp 
of  the  clinging  arms,  and,  despite  amaze  and  struggle 
and  breathless  protest,  just  as  on  that  wondrous  night 
at  the  old  stone  house,  he  strained  the  slender,  panting, 
swaying  form  to  his  breast;  and  just  as  he  did  not  then 
do,  rained  kiss  after  kiss  on  the  velvet  of  that  flushed, 
tear-wet,  astonished  cheek  ;  yes,  dared  even  in  his 
strength  and  glory  and  delight  to  turn  the  now  furiously 
resisting  head  upon  his  breast  until  the  wild,  dilated  eyes 
were  staring  into  his ;  until  the  rosy,  panting  mouth  was 
so  close  to  his  quivering  lips  that  denial  seemed  utterly 
in  vain ;  then  down  he  swooped  upon  the  prize.  But 
with  one  superb,  supreme  effort,  she  tore  herself  from 
his  embrace ;  stood  one  instant,  panting,  speechless,  with 


SURRENDER  369 

hands  uplifted  against  him,  waving  him  back ;  with  eyes 
that  flashed  and  commanded  and  refused  to  melt  even 
at  sight  of  the  passion  and  pleading  and  bewilderment 
in  his  face. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  he  began.  "  You  must  know 
how  I  love  you,  and  when  I  heard " 

"  Heard !  "  and  up  went  the  hands  in  impotent  wrath 
and  protest.  "How  dare  you — listen?  Oh!  Don't  I 
know  what — "  but  then  the  torrent  of  her  words  was 
stemmed  by  the  sight  of  the  changing  light  in  the  deep 
blue  eyes,  and  all  in  a  second  she  saw  them  clouding 
again  as  in  pain  and  amaze  they  had  clouded  the  bitter 
night  of  her  impetuous,  inexcusable  attack  two  years 
agone.  Yes,  and  his  face  was  paling,  his  lips  setting. 
He  was  seeing  her  again  as  time  and  again  in  mind's 
eye  he  must  have  seen  her — unjust,  ungrateful,  unrea 
soning,  in  face  of  all  that  he  had  done  and  endured  for 
her  and  for  those  she  loved.  And  then — O  heaven! 
with  pain,  disappointment,  yet  with  conviction — convic 
tion  that  she  was  after  all  not  the  Rosalie  he  had  loved 
and  worshiped  in  spite  of  herself,  but  the  Rosalie  she 
really  was — proud,  passionate,  ungrateful,  unjust;  yes, 
utterly  unworthy — he  had  dropped  his  strong  hands  and 
was  slowly  turning — surely  turning  away.  Now  he 
would  go  and  never  know  how  she  had  suffered  for 
the  sin.  Now  he  would  go  and  never  dream  how 
she  had  prayed  for  forgiveness  and  for  him  and  for 
the  time  when  she  could  tell  him  all.  And  now  he 
he  had  come  all  unannounced  and  had  startled  and 
24 


370  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

stunned  her,  and  heard — heard  her  weak,  unmaidenly 
words,  and,  ah,  there  was  the  rub!  would  think,  would 
surely  think  that  she  knew  he  was  there,  and  so  was 
only  acting  a  part  to  lure  him  back.  Oh,  the  shame, 
the  bitter  shame  of  it  !  But  none  the  less  was  he 
going,  and  this  time  it  might  be  for  good  and  all.  It 
was  more  than  she  could  bear.  It  was  the  last  and 
cruelest  stroke  of  the  evil  fate  that  had  so  long  hounded 
and  pursued  her.  It  broke  the  last  prop  of  her  stub 
born  womanly  pride,  her  long-tried,  failing  strength, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  her  daring,  fearless,  resolute  life, 
Queen  Rosalie  threw  out  nerveless,  groping  hands  for 
aid,  and,  sudden  as  the  stroke  of  heaven,  went  crashing 
down.  

O  blessed  sun  that  sank  behind  the  Ridge  and  would 
not  see!  O  blessed  songsters  that,  trilling  their  last 
good-night,  would  suffer  no  other  sound.  O  wise  old 
Pyramus  to  wander  off  beneath  the  blossoming  trees 
and  give  place  to  him  who  sprang,  too  late  to  seize ;  who 
knelt  and,  defiant  of  hygienic  laws,  lifted  the  bonnie, 
swooning  head;  clasped  again  the  now  pliant,  yielding 
form,  pressed  kiss  after  kiss  upon  the  soft,  unresponsive 
but  unresenting  lips,  and  plead  and  prayed  and  called 
on  heaven  and  on  her  until,  with  faint  sigh,  the  fluttering 
breath  returned,  and  then  the  dark  eyes  slowly  opened, 
and  one  moment  seemed  ready  again  to  blaze  with  the 
battle  fire  of  the  South,  but  that  presently  took  refuge 
beneath  the  white  flag  of  their  own,  long-lashed  lids,  and 


SURRENDER  371 

with  another  sigh,  with  a  soft  glow  stealing  slowly  up 
over  rounded  throat  and  cheek  and  even  to  the  snowy 
brow,  the  beautiful,  humbled  face  turned  fairly  toward 
him  and  buried  itself  in  the  blue  of  the  broad  shoulder. 
Like  that  of  Appomattox,  it  was  the  surrender  of  utter 
exhaustion. 

They  were  standing  two  hours  later  in  the  dusk  of 
the  old  portico.  There  had  been  a  blessed,  yet  almost 
solemn,  meeting  at  the  bedside  of  the  aging  father,  and 
all  the  story  of  that  lamentable  month  two  years  earlier, 
with  many  a  tear  had  been  told.  With  the  Squire  and 
Elinor  returned  to  the  West  there  was  no  one  to  warn 
them  against  McKinnon,  who  from  the  very  first  had 
seemed  to  gain  the  guileless  doctor's  confidence.  It 
was  Chilton's  childlike  belief  that  every  well-mannered 
man  was  a  gentleman  until  proved  otherwise,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  McKinnon  knew  all  about  them  and  all 
about  Jack.  It  had  been  Rosalie's  growing  belief  that 
her  aunt  must  have  had  help,  and  that  Squire  Benton 
or  his  son  was  the  helper;  but  at  the  last  her  father 
amazed  her  with  the  admission  that  he  had  given  his 
personal  note  to  McKinnon  for  money  to  be  sent  to  Jack, 
and  for  other  needs.  Little  by  little  her  intuitive  aver 
sion  to  the  man  had  given  way  before  his  apparently 
unobtrusive  courtesies.  He  had  never  hinted  at  such 
a  thing  as  a  quarrel  with  the  Bentons,  father  or  son. 
He  never  referred  to  them  except  guardedly  until  La- 
due's  recapture  and  Jack's  narrow  escape.  Then  he 


372  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

had  told  her  aunt,  to  whom  he  had  been  kindness  and 
helpfulness  itself,  that  the  plan  was  known  to  the  Secret 
Service,  that  Benton  and  Ladue  had  been  still  in  covert 
correspondence;  that  Ladue  wished  to  make  it  appear 
that  he  was  striving  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  while  in 
point  of  fact  he  planned  to  be  again  captured  and  con 
fined  where  he  could  escape  the  dangers  of  the  battle 
field,  and  the  expedition  to  capture  him  and  Jack  was 
guided  by  information  furnished  by  Benton  himself — 
Benton,  who  had  been  under  a  cloud  and  hoped  by  the 
capture  of  Confederate  officers  to  win  his  way  back  to 
favor.  Rosalie  had  indignantly  refused  to  believe  at 
first ;  had  even  had  a  fierce  verbal  affray  with  the  major, 
who  brought  the  Virginian,  Jennings,  to  prove  a  truth 
that,  as  McKinnon  put  it,  he  "  never  thought  could 
reach  her  ears  or  it  should  never  have  escaped  these 
lips."  An  eloquent  man  was  McKinnon,  and  music  was 
in  his  voice  and  mischief  in  his  soul.  Benton  had 
planned,  he  said,  to  capture  Jack,  and  Jennings  there 
stood  ready  to  swear  to  it.  Then,  before  she  had  time 
to  recover  herself,  she  had  been  ushered  into  that  cosey 
parlor,  and  had  come  face  to  face  with  the  man  who  filled 
her  thoughts.  It  all  looked  like  design  on  his  part,  and 
in  her  wrath  and  doubt  and  bitter  trouble,  she  had 
hurled  her  accusation  and  fled.  But,  long  before  La- 
due's  visit  to  Charlottesville,  she  had  begun  to  suspect 
both  McKinnon  and  Jennings.  After  his  coming  she 
had  known  no  moment  of  peace,  yet,  how  could  she 
write  or  tell  him  whom  she  had  so  outraged?  Of  what 


SURRENDER  373 

use  was  it?  He  would  forget  it — and  her — in  course  of 
time 

"  Does  this  look  like  it?  "  asked  Benton. 

They  were  standing  by  the  open  doorway.  She  had 
brought  down  to  him  the  beautiful  sash  he  had  left  with 
her  when  he  rode  away,  for  this  very  night  he  must  re 
turn  to  Gordonsville  and  join  his  chief  for  the  morning's 
march.  Meantime  he  had  been  winding  it  about  her, 
the  silken  folds  clinging  to  the  dainty  white  dimity,  and 
now,  having  thrown  the  tasseled  ends  over  his  arm,  had 
seized  her  soft  hands  and  was  looking  down  fondly,  won- 
deringly,  in  that  almost  unrealizing,  unbelieving  bliss  of 
newly  requited  love. 

"  Does  this  look  like  it — that  for  two  years  I  should 
have  been  making  every  effort  to  reach  you,  only  to 
be  stormed  at  as  if  I  had  sinned  past  pardon  in  hav 
ing  clasped  you — here  ?  "  and  raising  her  little  hands 
he  held  them  firmly  upon  his  breast,  the  creamy  white 
upon  the  dusky  blue.  Then,  one  hand  being  quite  big 
enough  for  that  purpose,  he  stole  his  right  arm  round 
her  and  drew  her  closer.  The  sound  of  slow,  meas 
ured  footfalls  and  soft  voices  could  be  faintly  heard 
along  the  shaded  street.  Some  of  her  coterie  were 
surely  coming  to  scout  the  approaches  if  not  actually 
to  seek  the  presence  of  their  erstwhile  queen.  Not 
that  they  would  interrupt  for  worlds  !  They  only  wished 
to  see.  And  through  the  summerlike  stillness  of  the 
night,  afar  down  at  the  railway  station,  the  sputtering 
hiss  of  steam  told  that  the  iron  horse  was  waiting  im- 


374  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

patient  for  the  start.  "  It  may  be  weeks  before  I  can 
hope  to  reach  you  again,"  he  murmured,  "and — isn't 
that  Georgia  Scott's  voice  ?  "  A  swift  upward  glance  of 
the  soft,  dark  eyes  said  yes,  and  though  for  an  instant 
they  fell  again,  it  was  but  for  an  instant  ;  there  was 
something  so  compelling  in  the  glow  of  his. 

"  Then — "  said  he,  speaking  and  bending  lower. 

"  Then — what  ?  "  she  murmured,  persistingly  insistent 
on  being  told,  though  her  head  drooped  again. 

"  Then — it's  time  for  some — token  of  surrender,  is  it 
not  ?  "  And  now,  loosing  the  little  hands,  leaving  them 
self-clasping  on  his  breast,  he  wound  the  other  arm 
about  and  drew  her  closer  still. 

"  I  don't — quite — "  she  dimpled,  her  soft  cheek  sink 
ing  on  her  own  hands,  her  tiny  ear  catching  the  loud 
beating  of  his  heart,  a  vagrant  tress  fluttering  in  the 
breath  from  her  parted  lips. 

"  You  do,  I  think,"  he  answered,  half  smiling. 
"  When  a  soldier  surrenders  he  gives  up  his  sword. 
When  a  girl  surrenders  she  should  give  up — her  lips," 
and  holding  her  more  firmly,  he  bent  yet  lower,  seeking 
with  wordless  eagerness  the  sweet  symbol  that  he 
craved.  But  she  nestled  closer  still  where  he  could  not 
see  her  glowing  face,  and  the  answer  camej  half  stifled, 
after  a  moment  of  shy  silence : 

"  You're  not  magnanimous  like  your  commander. 
He  would  not  touch  the  sword  of  General  Lee." 

"I  see!"— and  this  very  slowly,  "  and— you  prefer 
that  I  should  be— like  General  Grant?" 


SURRENDER  375 

No  answer,  verbal  at  least.  Even  queens  are  women 
and  would  be  wooed.  He  should  be  made  to  know  this, 
even  when  both  heart  and  lips  said  yield.  But  the  fates 
were  against  her.  Silvery  laughter  and  soft  voices 
sounded  close  at  hand  now.  Ah,  some  were  happy, 
even  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  surrender,  since  there 
were  still  loved  ones  left  for  the  sweet  home-coming. 

"  It  is  Georgia,"  whispered  Benton,  "  and,  as  I  live, 
Kate  Falconer!  They'll  be  here  in  a  minute  and  I'll 
be  gone.  Rosalie,  do  you  remember  that  night  three 
years  ago  when  you  said  '  now  or  never '  ?  " 

One  moment  of  fluttering  heartbeat  —  of  latent, 
still  smouldering  rebellion,  then  at  last  —  surrender. 
Slowly  and  with  down-cast  eyes  the  queenly  head  was 
raised.  One  swift  look  into  his  glowing  face,  and  the 
white  arms  stole  about  his  neck ;  the  rosy  mouth  uplifted 
and,  meeting  the  fervent  pressure  of  those  bearded, 
eager  lips,  in  its  own  sweet  way,  gave  answer. 


LENVOI 

Three  years  later,  in  the  early  spring  of  '68,  we  were 
steaming  back  through  Mississippi  Sound,  en  route  for 
New  Orleans  by  way  of  the  Rigolets.  It  was  an  exquisite 
morning,  and  the  land  breeze  was  laden  with  the  fra 
grance  of  the  magnolias  and  soft  with  the  balsam  of  the 
Southern  pine.  The  steamer  darted  swiftly  through  the 
placid  blue  waters,  bearing  among  other  passengers  a 
little  party  of  officers  and  ladies,  returning  from  a  brief 


376  THE   IRON   BRIGADE 

visit  to  Mobile.  Carver  was  there,  captain  and  brevet 
lieutenant-colonel  in  the  regular  service,  and  still  with 
Hancock,  who  was  then  commanding  the  Department 
of  the  Gulf.  Benton  was  there,  holding  like  rank  with 
his  old  friend  of  the  staff;  and  with  Benton,  seated  on 
the  upper  deck,  was  Rosalie,  looking  fondly  into  his 
face  at  times,  then  again,  with  earnest  interest,  on  an 
other  pair,  talking  in  low  tone  together  at  the  bows.  It 
had  been  a  solemn  pilgrimage,  this  mission  to  Mobile. 
They  had  gone  thither  to  lay  away  all  that  was  mortal 
of  Paul  Ladue,  transferred  from  the  rocky  banks  of  the 
little  stream  in  far-away  Pennsylvania  to  the  shady  nook 
where,  all  night  long  in  the  moonlight,  the  mocking  bird 
sang  in  this  land  of  his  boyhood  and  his  devoted  love. 
Gathered  about  his  final  resting  place  were  few  indeed 
of  his  kith  and  kin,  but  the  tempered  sunshine  fell  on 
fair  women  and  brave  men  of  both  North  and  South — 
the  blue  and  the  gray — all  enmity  stilled,  please  God, 
forever.  And  of  those  who  stood  with  tear-dimmed 
eyes,  as  a  bugler  of  the  old  Eleventh  Alabama  sounded 
the  soldier's  lullaby  over  the  fresh-heaped  mound,  Eli 
nor  Benton  had  laid  a  little  spray  of  lilies  of  the  valley 
on  the  lowering  casket.  It  was  a  gray-sleeved  arm,  for 
the  old  uniform  was  seen  on  one  or  two  veterans,  that 
drew  her  gently  away  and  led  her,  bowed  and  reverent, 
from  the  burial  of  her  earliest  love.  It  was  the  same 
arm  on  which  she  was  leaning  now,  as  she  stood  gazing 
down  upon  the  dancing  waters  under  the  forefoot,  and 
it  was  on  these  two,  Elinor  and  brother  Jack,  that 


SURRENDER  377 

Queen  Rosalie  looked  with  brimming  eyes ;  then,  ques 
tioning,  up  into  her  stalwart  husband's  face. 

But  for  whom  did  not  Queen  Rosalie  scheme  and 
plan?  Was  it  not  she  who,  when  the  Pelhams  had  to 
part  with  old  Pyramus,  sold  a  precious  ring  to  buy  him  ? 
Was  it  not  she  who  found  place  after  place  among  the 
officers  for  young  Pomp,  well  nigh  spoiled  in  the  ex 
altation  of  being  his  own  master  ?  Was  it  not  she  who 
pleaded  for  Hector,  faithful  to  her  husband  through 
many  scenes,  yet  sometimes  lax  in  duty  through  the 
fascinations  of  New  Orleans?  The  old  home  at  Char- 
lottesville  had  gone  to  other  hands  after  the  doctor's 
peaceful  death  in  '66.  Jack  had  previously  settled  down 
to  hard  work  in  New  Orleans  and,  like  many  another 
manful  young  Southron,  was  winning  his  own  way  in 
the  paths  of  peace.  Life  seemed  vested  with  new  inter 
est  to  him,  however,  since  the  coming,  early  in  the  win 
ter,  of  Aunt  Elinor  to  stand  sponsor  on  a  very  interest 
ing  occasion,  and  if  Rosalie  Benton  had  a  wish  still 
ungratified  it  was  one  that  bade  fair  soon  to  be  num 
bered  with  others  of  the  past.  Her  soldier  Fred  was 
proud  and  happy  in  his  profession,  a  success,  despite  all 
prophesies  of  Stanton  to  the  contrary  and  all  pleadings 
of  the  Squire  to  quit  and  learn  the  law.  Her  baby  boy 
had  no  peer  in  army  circles  in  the  South.  Her  brother, 
after  one  serious  illness  during  the  yellow  fever  the  pre 
vious  autumn,  was  in  the  best  of  health  and  the  height 
of  hope  and  spirits.  Always  a  frequent  visitor  at  their 
bright  army  home  at  the  old  barracks,  he  had  become 


378  THE   IRON  BRIGADE 

practically  a  day  boarder,  as  he  expressed  it,  since  the 
advent  of  Aunt  Elinor.  The  war,  that  left  its  scars  on 
so  many  a  soldier  frame,  seemed  to  have  bequeathed  no 
bitterness  to  the  men  who  battled  in  the  field.  They 
that  fought  so  manfully  in  the  smoke-shrouded  ranks, 
either  blue  or  gray,  had  no  stomach  for  the  post-bellum 
warfare  waged  in  Congress  and  convention  by  unter- 
rified  orators  of  the  McKinnon  type — men  so  seldom 
heard  of  on  the  fighting  line  that  only  when  the  war  was 
over  did  we  begin  to  realize  the  valorous  zeal  that 
burned  unquenchable  in  their  breasts.  McKinnon  had 
gone  no  more  to  the  old  home  city.  He  scored  bril 
liantly  a  while  in  Georgia  after  the  war, — prominent  in 
the  Bureau  of  Freedmen,  Refugees  and  Abandoned 
Lands, — then  went  to  Congress  on  the  carpet-bag 
ticket,  but  only  for  a  term.  We  heard  of  him  in  Mexico 
in  '69,  head  of  some  colonization  scheme  that  soon 
dwindled  into  smoke,  then  lost  track  of  him  entirely. 

As  for  the  old  brigade,  the  few  remaining  forms  are 
bent ;  the  beards  are  thinned  and  grizzled ;  the  old  and 
honored  leaders  have  almost  all  been  gathered  to  their 
fathers;  only  one  or  two  of  those  that,  rising  with  it, 
won  and  wore  the  star  of  command,  still  move  and 
have  their  being.  But  as  year  follows  year,  the  few 
survivors  gather  to  tell  again  the  tales  of  Gainesville, 
Gettsyburg  and  the  awful  Wilderness,  and  to  crown  with 
love  and  loyalty  the  names  of  those  that  made  them  and 
led  and  lived  with  them  through  all  that  heroic  struggle 
for  national  life,  there  rings  ever  a  sentiment  second 


SURRENDER  379 

only  to  the  faith  and  fealty  they  owe  the  Flag : — Bound 
less  is  their  belief  in  the  men  that  wore  the  blue ;  bound 
less,  also,  is  their  soldier  admiration  for  the  men  that 
wore  the  gray. 


THE  END 


